


Last Blood

by Princess_Cocoa



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AO3 1 Million, M/M, Past Character Death, Vampires, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Cocoa/pseuds/Princess_Cocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So here he is, truly forced to choose between the lesser of two evils. He either has to continue on by himself against a countless number of zombies or accept the help of a group of vampires. Well. At least with Doulgas he won't be alone anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing on with my transferring, I'm bringing this one over from my ff account. Bear with me, please, as I discuss this fic a bit. 
> 
> This fic came about after my trip to SDCC over the summer when I heard about the webcomic Last Blood on Keenspot. I _still_ haven't read the comic, though I definitely intend to at some point, but I was so consumed by the premise that I decided to make a CP au out of it. 
> 
> I've written a good 65,000 words for this fic and I still haven't reached the end. As such, this is a WIP, but not one that's going to find pause anytime soon. Please heed the warnings - there is plenty of violence in here and there will be, at the very least, non-con _elements_ later in the story (not between Douglas and Martin, if you're worried).
> 
> Now, if you're still with me, I hope you enjoy my fic :).

He's running; lungs burning, feet bleeding, eyes staring unblinkingly forward as he sprints for his life. Again. All of this - this desperate running and this terror is usual for him now. But that doesn't matter: it's not worth thinking about. Nothing is worth thinking about right now as he barrels desperately forward, his last, ruined shoe nearly falling off in the process.

Yet, even as his feet pound against the decrepit asphalt, some thoughts simply refuse to leave his mind.

For example, no matter how much danger he's in, he'll never forget how completely and utterly alone he is. So, so alone and likely to stay that way for a long time - assuming, of course, that he doesn't die now.

He hears a growl behind him followed by more. Growls, mumbles, howls, hisses; it's really all he hears anymore. All loud noises in the night while he's trying to get some much needed sleep, though it never comes - not so long as those noises are around, haunting him, torturing him. 

Slowly, more useless thoughts permeate his mind. Memories flood in as he runs, and he remembers everything that led up to this exact moment. He remembers the news. Remembers other people - other humans. Remembers the reassurances, the promises that this epidemic, this _plague_ wouldn't last long; it would be contained, just stay inside and lock yourselves away.

Sure.

There was a time when the government provided door to door rations and when there was no panic, no blinding fear. He doesn't remember that part though, because right now he's terrified and he can't remember - even as every other memory fills his mind - ever having not been.

Suddenly, he wants to cry as he jumps another fence, heading for the safety of the tree line. He wants to stop and bawl and just let death come because nothing can be worse than this hideous sickening constant dread, this non-stop chase, those few traitorous thoughts of maybe today is it, maybe the end is finally here I at least hope it doesn't hurt too much I hope they kill me as quickly as possible.

Though no matter how much those thoughts run briefly through his mind, he knows he'll never actually succumb to them. He knows he'll never stop. He'll never break down and cry for a world lost. Besides, his tears are all used up.

They dried out a long time ago, run down from crying over a safe, comfortable life that had disappeared merely in the blink of an eye, from mourning family members killed and changed, from weeping for a world destroyed. Whether he wants to or not, he couldn't produce tears now of he tried.

He dodges a tree and jumps over a hole in the ground, still running at full speed. The noises of a chase have quieted now but he's still got a while to go before he reaches a safe distance. The single most valuable fact that he's learned during this time is that zombies - as that's what everyone seems to have wanted to call those creatures - don't like forested areas.

The woods are good, perfect really; it's hard for the clumsy zombies to keep up in the brush and very occasionally, an animal will keep them distracted. The forest had become a place of brief refuge and of hope. So much so that people had started the most ridiculous rumors. He remembers there being talk of cities of humans located throughout the forests of Europe. He'd stopped believing in that meaningless gossip, of course. After a year of travel he still hasn't come across a single one. Besides, he hasn't heard those myths in quite awhile. Though perhaps that has to do with the fact that he hasn't actually talked to another human in. Well. In a very long time.

He thinks of his brother, the last of his party to survive. He was killed. While trying to protect him, no less. He closes his eyes for a moment at the memory and instantly regrets it.

While it's a well-known fact that packs of zombies don't like forests, that same rule doesn't apply to groups of two or even three. He hits one straight on, clothelining himself and falling heavily to the ground. A clawed hand swings through the air, coupled with a harsh moan, and he rolls just in time to avoid taking the brunt of the attack, though his back still gets sliced the tiniest bit.

He lifts himself to his feet and staggers - his ankle was hurt in the fall. He curses; a twisted ankle will get him killed in a matter of a few hours, that is if he's not killed here.

He limps back, trying to ignore the pain but afraid at the same time of causing more damage. He continues moving, distancing himself as best he can while keeping an eye on the three creatures in front of him, each moving forward in time with him. It's a slow dance they're participating in: the first strike is always the most tenuous.

He gropes around behind him, trying hard to avoid being cornered in by trees while also trying to find a good branch to take a swing with. He immediately regrets using his last weapons on the monster that killed his brother but vicious, revenge-fueled anger, he's found, simply cannot be controlled.

He starts, eyes widening when his hand hits cold flesh instead of wood. Spinning quickly, he avoids the biting attack of the zombie behind him. The quick movement, however, incites the other three to action and he curses again, stumbling out of the way of two other attacks.

He cries out when a third clawed attack comes dangerously close to his neck, clipping his face instead. Blood splashes hot against his cheek, dripping viscously down his throat and adding another stain to his ruined shirt.

He flips around, preparing to sprint away when a hand grabs his ankle, dragging him to the ground. When he lands the breath leaves him and he feels briefly dazed, blinking away stars as he struggles, kicking the zombie in the face as hard as he can until the thing lets go. Its skin stretches and tears, its cheek cracks and its jaw unhinges but still it won't relent. In the background, the other three are gathering their bearings, turning to encircle him. 

The right one pounces first. He rolls, dragging the other mutilated zombie with him. Grabbing a thick stick from the ground, he flips around, hitting another square in the jaw. It howls as part of its face is lost but stands back up after the blow. He discards the broken stick.

Finally, he gets in a position to bring his foot up and step on the arm still clinging to his ankle. He stomps hard, breaking bone as he pries the hand from his ankle while trying to stand.

The other two attack and he just barely dodges a bite to his right shoulder and another to his left hip. He trips, falling to his knees. He's tackled from the side but manages to roll out from under the flailing zombie. Blinking hard, he struggles to pull himself up again. Another zombie lands on his back and he shouts while wrenching free of its grip. He rolls away, right against a tree.

Eyes wide, he glances at the tree. It's large and already the zombies are encircling once more. He's trapped. His breath stutters out of him as he realizes that this is the end: there's no possible way to escape without a bite.

The zombie on his right jumps first, knocking him flat on the ground. He waits for the first of many bites but it doesn't come. Instead, the weight is removed from his back. He blinks his eyes open and pushes up, holding his weight at his elbows as he watches what's happening.

A man is fighting the creatures. He takes the one currently struggling in his hands and throws it hard against the other three. As they fall to the ground, the man pounces on another, landing on one and taking no time in completely tearing its head off. He turns quickly, plunging his hand into the chest cavity of the third and wrenching its spine apart. Before that one can even land, the man picks up another, throwing it against a far tree. He turns to the first one he'd thrown, watching as it struggles to right itself. The man picks it up and tears it near in half, grimacing at the mess. 

Blood, blackened by stagnation, rains down as the man turns, eyeing him still on the ground. He realizes, vaguely, that he's shaking; he's scared, even more so by this silent protector than by the zombies themselves.

The man is impeccably dressed, almost as if clothing stores hadn't shut down just after the first reported attack. He wears a long - possibly leather - trench coat, completely unbottoned. The bottom flutters around him and his strapped black pants while the top sits lightly above a black dress shirt and a deep maroon tie.

It should look hideous, oxymoronic, really. His high-calf combat boots shouldn't look so good with the dress shirt and his neatly combed brown-grey hair but it does. He's tall, intimidating, and, most of all, looking at him with an analytical yet predatory gleam in his eye.

"What's your name," he asks, his deep voice booming in the small area.

He shakes, opens his mouth to answer, closes it again. He has to think; he hasn't had a name in so long. "M-M-Martin." His voice is cracked from disuse, his stutter as prevalent as ever.

The man raises an eyebrow. "British, then. You're far from home."

"No home left," he replies, eyes unwavering as he meets the man's unblinking stare.

The man tilts his head and smirks. "I suppose that's true for you."

Martin's eyebrows furrow. Who in the world is this man? Did he somehow miss the fact that the apocalypse had occurred?

"I, um, thanks. For saving me. That was, it was...good. So. Thanks."

The man's smirk extends into a close-lipped smile. "You shouldn't thank me just yet," he says, sending a shiver down Martin's spine. "I assure you the motivations weren't entirely altruistic." He tilts his head as Martin leans against the tree to stand. "You're hurt."

"Er...yeah. It's fine, though."

The man hums and walks closer. "You won't survive long with that ankle."

Martin raises his eyebrows and nods. "Nope, probably not. Not much to do about that though. Just have to keep moving. Thanks again." Pointedly turning away from the man, he tries to limp forward. He hates being alone but his gut is telling him that being with this man is even more dangerous than being on his own. And if there's one thing he's learned during these last months, it's that he shouldn't ignore his gut instinct.

He doesn't get far, however, as the man's hand reaches forward, gripping him painfully tight at his shoulder.

"I may be wrong," he starts. "But going off alone in such a condition isn't a good idea."

Martin turns, and it's only then that he sees them.

He'd first heard of them only after he and his family had left the small island housing the United Kingdom. They'd been in hiding for thousands of years until humanity's apocalypse. From there they'd been desperate, nearly as desperate for humans as humans were for escape from the wretched world theirs had become.

He'd only ever seen a vampire once before; since then, he'd vowed never to go near one again. Yet here one is, looking at him expectantly with his fangs in full view after just having saved his life. "Oh," he says.

The man smiles once more, seeming to catalogue Martin's reaction. Martin's eyes are fearful but also resigned - he knows what could happen to him in the presence of a vampire.

"'Oh' indeed," he drawls. "No need to worry: you're a precious resource, I'm not going to kill you or suck you dry or do any of the other likely terrible things running through your head. Rather, I have a proposition for you."

Martin nods, unable to do much else while the man, the _vampire_ , has him in his grasp.

"I happen to know where a tiny little human village is," he starts, grinning at Martin's traitorously hopeful expression.

"It's a few days' walk northeast from here. My own coven protects it from those hideous zombie packs. In exchange, we feed on a few of you once weekly. We don't kill a single one of you - you're nearly extinct after all - but with the current amount of people and my coven of fifteen vampires, a single person is fed on once every two months or so. What do you think?"

Martin's eyes go wide. He very nearly forgets that he should be wary of the vampire. "There are that many humans still alive?"

He smiles. "That and more. We don't feed on children but there are plenty there. Similarly, we're constantly finding more like you just wandering. Enough to viably rebuild a whole civilization, at least."

Martin lets out a large breath of air that he didn't know he'd been holding. It wasn't great, being fed on, but it was the lesser of two evils. He would survive, he wouldn't be alone, he'd be protected. He looks back at the vampire. "That sounds fine," he says, still slightly suspicious but also eager.

"Marvelous," he responds. He extends a perfectly manicured hand. "My name is Douglas. Welcome to the village, Martin."


	2. Chapter 2

Hours have passed since they began walking through the forest - ample time for Martin to begin reconsidering his decision. At first Douglas had seemed almost normal - almost _human_  - so much so that Martin felt a certain ease around him. Comfortable, for lack of a better word. Now, though, as the silence between them stretches on, he feels insecure and intimidated by the man walking only a few paces ahead. As the minutes have passed into hours, Douglas seems to have turned more brooding: a darker facsimile of the man who helped Martin to stand and made brief conversation before giving it up as a lost cause.

Of course, that might just be Martin's own mind.

He always used to have a habit of working himself up and overreacting to every little thing before the destruction of humanity. It was a habit he was forced to change when the apocalypse happened; he found, when masses of people were getting killed or changing on a daily basis all around him, it was hard to overreact to anything. So he learned to control himself, learned to calm himself down and face his problems head on without a big production.

Now, though, it seems his old habits are coming back.

As he limps along next to Douglas, he worries that he may have put too much trust in the vampire in exchange for having saved his life. He worries that perhaps the village isn't as benevolent as it sounds. He worries that he's a lamb being led to slaughter. He worries that Douglas is hiding his true self - that truly the man is more like the last vampire Martin came face to face with, which would mean his previous conjectures aren't at all far-reaching.

He felt alright with Douglas while they were speaking at the start of their journey. He felt, even, as if he was talking to another human after the initial wariness and adrenaline wore off. Now, as the silence continues to stretch on, he feels meaker, worried, and worst of all, fearful once again.

"I can hear your breathing getting heavier," Douglas says, voice slightly smug.

Martin closes his eyes for a brief period, working to calm himself down as best he can. There's no use in getting anxious at this point.

"Care to share your problem?"

Martin swallows and glances at Douglas. The vampire is walking backwards now yet still avoiding hitting anything in his path. He's watching Martin with a single, perfectly raised eyebrow. Now that Martin can see his face and hear his smooth voice, he feels a little more reassured in regards to his original choice.

"I have a hard time trusting a vampire," Martin blurts out, completely unaware that those were the words he was going to say. He nearly smacks himself; of course his mind thinks the best idea would be to alienate the man.

Douglas snickers and flips back around. "A healthy fear of us is good, I suppose. You weren't very scared of me before, though. After the inital shock wore off, that is."

"Well you'd just saved my life," Martin says. "And you were a lot less...crazy than the last vampire I met, so it threw me off."

"Ah," Douglas responds. "So you've met vampires before."

"Well..." Martin trails off, thinking back to the horrifying day early on in his new life. "I, um. I don't think met is the best word for it." Martin coughs, watching his feet as he walks and leaning heavily against the nearest tree for a moment, the memory hitting him full force.

"He was starving, apparently. He swooped in just as fast as you did earlier, killing my dad and at least ten others before he was contained. It was very early in our travels - just after we left England. Needless to say the addition of your kind after everything that had started to happen around us was more than a little terrifying."

Douglas looks at him and nods. "With so many humans before, we were able to hide. My personal coven never killed any humans for food, but others weren't so kind. Nonetheless, it was how we were able to stay hidden. When so many humans started dying or changing at once and we figured out that we couldn't feed on those creatures, some of us went a bit berserk."

They keep walking in silence.

"I'm sorry, though," Douglas says, surprising Martin with his tone.

Martin's brows furrow in confusion. "What for?"

"For your father," he explains, not looking at Martin. "I know what it's like to lose someone precious to you."

Martin nods but doesn't respond; it was a long time ago, comparatively. If he stopped to mourn every death around him, he'd be dead as well. There simply isn't the time for such things anymore. Instead, he chooses to think over Douglas's comments as he continues to limp on behind him.

He'd never thought about vampire hierarchy before, never thought of their familial structure and what not. In fact, he hadn't had a single chance to contemplate vampires as he moved from town to town, hoping to reach a safe woodland area to settle in with the rest of the people he was with. Had he been able to think on the topic, though, he would never have considered vampires to be so human. Similarly, he never would have expected them to form ties, to have people "precious" to them.

A branch cracks under his foot unexpectedly and he trips, landing hard on his knee. He yelps as the action twists his already precarious ankle.

"Shit," he curses, holding his ankle in a loose hold and rocking slightly while he waits for the pain to recede.

Douglas is there in an instant, gently prying Martin's fingers away.

"It's fine. We can keep going. Really."

Douglas glances at him, then directs his attention back to the injured ankle. "It's not fine. Why do you insist we keep moving if you're so injured? This is a nasty sprain, not to mention the fact that one of those zombies grabbed you hard enough to bruise," he indicates the hand-shaped black mark at the base of his leg.

Martin purses his lips and looks away, cursing again.

Douglas stops his inspection and searches Martin's face. "You think I'm going to leave you," he breathes, cocking his head to the side.

"Well of course. Like this I'm a deadweight. Walking to whever we're going - Marcinkonys, was it? - would take around ten days if I were in top condition, and now it'll likely take even longer. And you said it yourself: there are other humans that you can go out and pick up. Other humans who could walk alongside you and actually be useful to you and your village." Martin closes his eyes to halt the threatening tears. It was too much to hope that he'd finally be safe.

He hears Douglas sigh as his hands leave his body. Martin nods, eyes shut tight as he hears the distinct rustling indicating Douglas standing.

He's surprised, then, when Douglas's hands reappear at his ankle.

"What're you doing?" he gasps.

"It's your ankle that's hurt, not your eyes. What does it look like?"

Martin watches the scene in shock. "You're wrapping my ankle, obviously. But. Jesus is that real medical bandage?"

Douglas chuckles at the tangent and meets his eyes before going back to work. "The town of ours is well-stocked. Enough so that we don't have to conform to the recent human practice of killing off or leaving behind the weakest link. And even if we did, you're most certainly not one."

Martin draws in a breath, but has nothing to say in response. He merely watches Douglas work. "I-. You're very good at that."

Douglas continues professionally wrapping his ankle. "I studied to be a doctor once. Went to medical school and everything before I was changed."

"When did that-"

Douglas cuts him off before he can finish his question. "All set," he says. "Although..."

"What," Martin asks dubiously.

"My professional opinion is that you stay off of it, at least for a little while."

Martin blanches. "How?"

"Well I'd carry you, of course."

A surprised laugh escapes Martin's throat. "No. No no, it's fine. I'm fine. I don't need...no. Thank you but I'll be fine, at least for a little while."

Douglas shrugs. "Your call. You know, not every vampire offers a free piggyback ride to a human they just met."

Martin quickly looks down as he feels his face color bright red at the completely undignified mental image. He shakes his head and stands, wobbling as he tries to calculate how much pressure he can place on his left leg without collapsing. He looks around, grabbing a sturdy stick as a makeshift cane.

"Let's go," he says, pushing forward and leaving Douglas to watch him limp away with a smirk still pasted on his face.

~*~

"Why is that," Martin asks, a few hours later when the silence is once again encroaching on his confidence.

"Why is what?"

"Why are you so...you?" Martin lifts a hand, indicating Douglas's entire being. "With me?" he continues, pointing now at himself.

Douglas glances at him as they continue walking. Martin determines that he may be hiding a smile, but it's impossible to tell from this angle.

"Are you wondering why I'm treating you so well or why I'm still carrying on with you?"

"Er...both."

Douglas sighs and looks up, watching the night sky as he walks. "Because of how you fought - your bravery, I suppose."

"Bravery?" Martin squeaks. "Oh God...I'm not...I'm not brave."

"Hm. You are, of that I have no doubt. But you're also a bit broken," Douglas responds, watching him from the corner of his eye. Seeing that Martin is still unconvinced, he continues.

"I heard a commotion in the city nearby - the city you ran out of actually. No screams, no gunfire, just the usual sound of a zombie horde on the prowl. When I reached you, you were just passing into the treeline. You were frightened, yes, but you were determined. You knew what to do and how to do it."

"Then," he says. "Then you hit that zombie (it left a nice bruise across your nose, by the way) but when you hit the ground, you didn't cower in fear. You didn't back up or try to crawl away; you fought. You've obviously never been trained in combat, but you've picked up certain skills that have kept you alive.

"You were doing so well, even when a fourth zombie - unusual for a forest group, that - stopped your path. Then, after all that fighting, when you thought all was lost, you didn't cry and you didn't scream. Something about that made me want to protect you more than any other human I've met. You have a fighting spirit - you know what needs to be done to keep yourself alive yet you don't cry for your own life.

"Isn't that a bit sad," he asks, finally looking Martin in the eye.

"My village actively seeks fighters," he continues. "It needs people willing to protect themselves and others, given the chance. I was going to save you no matter what, but the one attribute that made me want to keep you with me was the fact that somewhere in the back of your mind, you've lost hope; though your conscious mind hasn't yet processed that."

"I," Martin starts, but is cut off by Douglas's raised hand.

"I've watched humans for over one hundred years now and the one single thing that always sticks out to me is their hope. Being a vampire for so long, you forget what it's like to feel that spirit. When you know that things will almost always be perfect for you, you don't need to bother wondering. You don't need to continue fighting. Meanwhile, humans, when faced with a mortal adversary still fight tooth and nail.

"You, Martin, are a complete antithesis. You want to live when a fight is to be had, yet when you're about to die, you accept it without fail. You've faced so much tragedy, it's eaten away at your mind and your resolve. Honestly, I suppose I even see a bit of myself in you. I've always admired the human spirit, and I want you to get it back. Perhaps because I can't, perhaps because I'm tired of meeting those other desolate humans out in this world, perhaps, finally, because I like you, though I can't exactly say why."

Douglas stops, turning to face Martin who's halted a few yards back. The man's eyes are cast downward, moving back and forth as if trying to quickly read a piece of information placed on the ground, and his eyebrows are continually furrowing and relaxing.

The vampire moves forward and places his hand on Martin's shoulder. "I'm sure you're hungry."

Martin starts and holds a hand to his stomach. "I left all of my food in my last camp. I wasn't expecting those zombies to show up so quickly," he explains.

"It's fine," Douglas replies. He reaches into one of the pockets of his trenchcoat, pulling out a breakfast bar and a bottled water.

Martin gasps and whips them out of his hand. "No way. I haven't had un-canned food in months." He tears the bar open, smelling it before nibbling at it - trying to savour it as much as he can.

"It's not much, but there's not a town nearby that I can run into."

"It's fine," Martin says, still chewing. "I've learned how to ration through this past year."

Douglas nods and watches him eat. "Might as well camp here, then. I assume you haven't had a good night's sleep in quite awhile."

Martin blinks and looks at Douglas. "Um...no. Even when I was in a group I usually couldn't sleep that well."

"Well try to now; you'll want all your energy for tomorrow's journey."

"Oh ok. Um. So are we going to switch watches or something?"

Douglas chuckles. "No. I'm a vampire, I don't need to sleep unless I've been injured."

Martin's eyes widen and he nods. "Right right. You know, I keep forgetting that."

"That I'm a vampire?"

"Mhm," Martin hums.

"Well, despite that not so minor detail, I daresay you can rest easy with me here. I'll wake you if there's too much trouble."

Martin nods again, looking rather uncomforatble as his hunger becomes less of a distraction.

Douglas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I won't try to feed on you - scout's honor."

Martin tenses at having been found out, but slowly he relaxes and looks around. "Thanks," he says while scouting out a good place to sleep for the night. He settles on a patch of leaves, laying his head against a nearby log.

Douglas sighs and pulls off his jacket. "You really left everything when you ran, didn't you," he asks, rolling up the great trenchcoat and offering it to Martin.

Jumping when he turns to find the jacket in front of his face, Martin grabs it gratefully. "Thanks...again. This isn't necessary but...thanks. Um. Yeah, I did. I thought I might try to go back and get it later but I saw too many as I was running and knew I probably couldn't."

He yawns and lies down. "You're going to be alright?" he asks quietly.

"I believe you saw how I fought earlier - I'll be perfectly fine."

Martin lazily waves his hand. "Yes I know that. I mean...aren't vampires like...allergic to light or something? Aren't you supposed to stay in a coffin while it's light out?"

Douglas laughs. "God, no. I'm perfectly capable of walking around in light. We wouldn't be very good protectors if we weren't."

"Ah, that's good," Martin replies, yawning again. He's silent after that, continuously shifting to try to find a comfortable spot until he's finally asleep. Douglas watches him throughout the rest of the night and early morning, keeping an ear attuned to the quiet world around them. 


	3. Chapter 3

The first night is tough for Martin; he doesn't sleep well and ends up waking still tired. It's nothing he isn't used to, it's only extremely annoying now that he knows such restless sleep is unnecessary. Yet, as the days pass and Martin gets more comfortable with the vampire, he starts sleeping better. By the fourth day, even, the dark splotches that had taken up residence under his eyes since before he can remember start to disappear.

He wakes on the seventh day of their travels feeling more rested than he has in months. He turns over to find Douglas looking far across the fields they've found themselves in. The vampire turns back to him with a small smile. "Awake, are we?"

Martin smiles in return and sits up, stretching.

"I'd say that's the best you've slept in quite awhile," Douglas says. "Hard to believe, considering how uncomfortable this ground is."

Martin wipes the jacket off and hands it back to Douglas. "It's not so bad," he says. "Compared to my old mattress, this grass is like a dream." He looks in the direction Douglas was earlier. "What were you looking at?"

Douglas stands and puts his jacket back on. "There's a town a little ways from here. It's a bit larger than I'm comfortable going to but we're closer to it than any others. We can get some supplies and follow the highway for awhile until we see trouble. With as large as this city is, it's hard for me to get an all-encompassing look, but for now I don't see anything that will prove to be a problem."

Martin stands with him and squints into the distance. "You can see a town? How far?"

"About twenty five kilometers. It should go without saying that I have better eyesight than you do. Not to mention the fact that we're nearly out of the forest, meaning there are less trees to block my vision."

Martin blanches. "Well alright. You think we'll be safe on the highway? I mean, we've passed quite a few and they've seemed fine but walking on it..."

"Safe? No. But I don't think there are many of those creatures in this area...We're getting pretty close to the village: about two to three days more at our same pace. We're actually making excellent time, especially considering your ankle. I'm impressed."

Martin tries to hide his blush, choosing to ignore the compliment in favor of asking a question. "Your friends patrol out this far?"

Douglas purses his lips. "Some do, yeah. We can't expect zombies to randomly wander into our area, so we search for them. Some of the members of my coven like the thrill that comes with killing them."

"You don't?"

Douglas shrugs and moves forward. "I don't mind it but I don't actively seek it. Violence is violence and, if I'm forced to go out on patrol, I'd much rather go out looking for humans."

"Have you done that a lot? Gone out to find humans?"

"No," Douglas responds. "I'm a bit lazy, to be honest. I haven't left the camp since we founded it for quite awhile. You're actually the first human I'm bringing back."

"So what...do you just drop me off and go back out?"

Again, Douglas shakes his head. "I'm lazy because I can be - technically in the hierarchy of my little coven, I'm near the top. I'm only out here because there was complaining by two particularly annoying vampires - one of which is my equal, more or less - that I haven't done my part. Now that I have, I shouldn't have to leave for quite some time. Besides," he continues, "I much prefer to stay and protect than to actively search."

Martin chews his lip. "And bringing back a half-crippled human like me is going to show that you've done your part?"

Douglas stops and turns. "You're really worried about that aren't you?"

Still chewing his lip, Martin looks away and nods.

"Hm. Well. Here's a story for you," he says as he continues to walk backwards towards their destination. "Six months ago (two months after the start of our little town) a vampire brought in a woman and her husband. The man himself was more or less alright. His wife, however, was half dead, bloodied from head to toe, and screaming. She wouldn't calm down no matter what we said to her. Her husband called it trauma. She was left to recover for as long as she needed in the hospital - as everyone is - without complaint."

"Turns out," he continues, "as I later found out from Eliza - the one who brought her in - the woman's husband had used their son as a shield for himself to get away and she was left to fight the zombies off of him. Despite her efforts, he was turned, and she had to be pried from his infected body after she'd miraculously fought the rest off. Two weeks later, she'd recovered enough to call a town meeting at which she had her husband - now ex - exiled."

He stops and watches Martin's reaction. The boy doesn't seem too reassured so he presses on.

"She's now the leader of the human sect. Her name is Carolyn, just so you know."

Martin stops and stares at him. "The leader?"

Douglas nods and turns to keep walking. "The humans decided they needed one as the population grew and they came together to vote her in. That was only a week after her husband was voted out and three after she'd been brought in near the brink of death."

"Wow," Martin breathes. "She sounds scary."

Douglas laughs. "Oh she is. But underneath it all she's got a maternal instinct larger than anyone I've ever seen. You'll be fine, I'm sure. What I'm trying to say, Martin, is that what I said before still stands. My village needs fighters; people with a solid belief in persistence. We couldn't care less what you look like, how injured you are, or how you lived before all this started. If your drive is strong and you're willing to push through whatever is thrown at you without harming others, then you're accepted."

Martin nods slowly. He looks down at his ankle.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?"

Martin looks up again, meeting Douglas's sideways glance. "Er. Um. Yeah. It does."

Douglas smiles. "See? You'll be fine in my town. You're persevering...that's all we ask."

Martin smiles, relieved.

"Though that's not to say my offer has been revoked. I'll still help you if it's too much. I'd much rather be carrying you right now, truthfully."

"It's fine, really. I don't want to be burden."

"It's not a burden, Martin, really."

"No, no. Really, it's fine. I'll be fine. I'll let you carry me when I'm physically incapable of moving myself, how does that sound?"

Douglas shakes his head. "I said people who persevere, not people who are purely stubborn," he jokes. "Fine. Though we'll hope that doesn't happen."

Martin shoves into Douglas. "With a strong vampire like you by my side? I'm sure I'll be fine."

Douglas laughs. "Oh I see how it is: make me do all the work."

Martin chuckles. "You said it yourself: I've obviously never been trained to fight. That's your department," he says with a wink. His ridiculous gestures incite a laugh from Douglas as well and before long, they're both left helplessly giggling as they continue forward.

When they finally do quiet down, Douglas grabs Martin's shoulders, halting him. He leans down and points through the sparse treeline they've arrived at. "There's the town. It's called Grajewo."

Martin smiles sadly and nods when he sees it. "You know, my mum always wanted to visit Poland. I told myself I'd save up enough money to take her out here at some point."

Douglas doesn't comment, merely leading the way down the hill that will take them into town.

 

* * *

 

"It's creepy how quiet it is here," Martin says, looking all around him.

"It's not quiet to me; though my hearing is much better than yours."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Always the better with you."

Douglas smiles down at him. His eyes widen, suddenly, and his head whips back up to look deeper in the town. Martin watches him. "What do you hear?"

Douglas sniffs and blinks. "I thought I heard another human," he says slowly.

Martin nudges him. "Go get them, then. Use your 'better' speed or whatever it is you vampires do to grab them. Are they in danger?"

"It sounds like she's running," Douglas says, eyes squinting. "She's injured. I can get to her but I'd have to leave you."

"Douglas, it's fine. Go."

Douglas looks back at him and nods once before he disappears entirely.

"Bloody vampires and their superhuman... _everything_." Martin shakes his head and looks around. "Well, might as well start on that stocking up bit," he says, turning to find a store.

 

~*~

 

Douglas sprints to the woman he heard. Like Martin a few days before, she's not screaming in terror, but he can hear her panting as she runs. She's on the complete other end of where they are - likely near the small lake just outside of town. He hooks left and right, avoiding every building and tree as they pass by in a blur.

He jumps from the line of the buildings into the fields nearby just in time to see her tackled to the ground. He curses when he gets a good look at the zombie and realizes with an uneasy feeling that it's a Reaper. There's no way for him to help her now, especially not while he has Martin with him.

The Reaper roars as it descends. He looks away from the thing sinking its teeth viciously into the woman's throat. He blocks out the sound of her screams turning to heaving gargles. He backs up as quietly as he can towards the line of buildings. He has to get to Martin; Reapers travel in packs and he hasn't seen nor has he heard the others - they have to get out of here before they're discovered.

Once he reaches the safety of the concealing buildings, he turns and runs as fast as he can.

 

~*~

 

Martin picks up his newly-acquired backpack and moves on to the third tiny store.

"Cute little grocery store," he muses as he steps in through the vacant hole that used to be a door. "Hardly even touched."

He walks in, going through the aisles, running his hands over the barren shelves of the canned-food section.

He gasps. "No way."

Martin rushes forward, grabbing the package and turning it over in his hands. "Snickers," he breathes. "God I haven't had chocolate in...forever."

He grins and opens the package of the mini candy bars. He pops one out, placing the rest in his pack for later.

"Wonder if Douglas likes chocolate," he says while he chews. Stopping in the middle of the aisle to look at some possibly spoiled breakfast bars, he puts a finger to his chin. "Can vampires even eat anything besides blood?" He shrugs and moves on, making a mental note to ask Douglas later.

A dull roar from outside grabs his attention, and Martin moves to the doorway. He peeks out. "I hope Douglas and that woman are alright," he murmurs.

There's a crash from behind him and Martin jumps, spinning around.

"Hello," he calls, scanning the room for anything to use as a weapon - the last thing he wants to do is use his makeshift cane, but it's looking like a strong possibility at this point. Stepping forward, Martin listens for more movement. From the corner of his eye, he sees something and turns just in time to meet a clawed hand hitting him in the side of the face.

"Gah!" he shouts, staggering back and holding the shallow cuts on his cheek. Martin backs towards the door, watching the creature in front of him. It's like nothing he's ever seen, and his blood pumps loudly in his ears at the new terrifying sight. Its skin has a sickly purple tinge, with hands that curve into vicious claws. The rest of its body is covered entirely in prominent muscle. Worst of all is the face: its eyes are a completely blank white color - tinged red - and its teeth are all pointed, the canines protruding slightly from the rest.

"What in the hell..."

The thing pounces, knocking Martin back and out of the door. He rolls with it, managing to kick it up and backwards as they somersault. Martin stands, grabbing his dropped cane and turns back to face the creature.

Another growl alerts him to a second one and he spins around. Too late. The air is knocked out of him as he's slammed back, hitting a nearby wall - his head and back cracking painfully against it. Dazed, Martin slides down, taking far too long to stand while still gripping his stick.

The first one charges at him, and Martin swings hard. The stick hits the thing directly at the temple, some wood splitting off and flying in the opposite direction as the creature screeches and flies sideways. Before it's even hit the ground, the second one pounces, its hand outstretched.

Its claws scratch up across Martin's torso, going far deeper than he's comfortable with and eliciting a cry. The pain is almost immediately drowned out by the adrenaline, however, and he backs up, once again hitting the wall. The thing springs forward and Martin falls to the left, letting his ankle collapse out from under him.

The landing hurts but the thing is left confused and Martin uses the chance to quickly roll over and stand. As he does, though, the first one lands on top of him. He barely has enough time to grip the mutilated cane in both hands and shove it in the thing's mouth as it pitches forward.

Keeping its head from reaching him takes all his strength and he's left rolling from left to right as the creature tries to get purchase. He ignores its hands holding his, claws digging into the backs as he fights it. He kicks his feet, hoping to both dislodge this one and deter the other for a bit.

A cracking sound leaves Martin panicking and before he can blink, the thing forces it's way through the cane, it's teeth clicking as it bites just above his nose. He shouts, using his free hands to hit at its head. He winces as its body rubs against the deep gashes on his chest but he keeps rolling, hoping to knock the monster off.

He snaps his head to the side to avoid another bite, this time aimed at his jugular. Finally, he manages to wedge a foot in-between them both and kicks upward as much as he's able. It growls in response, seemingly annoyed. Eventually Martin manages to roll and kick at the same time, sending the thing skidding to the right.

He stands and takes big gulping breaths, trying to push the pain of his wounds to the back of his mind. He steps on his bad ankle, shouting as he staggers once more while backing up. The two creatures are standing side by side where he landed against the wall originally.

"Pick on someone your own size," he wheezes. "This hardly seems fair."

The one on the right cocks its head and bares its teeth. The other straightens up and howls. He briefly closes his eyes, trying to regain some of his composure when suddenly, he's hit from the left side.

He shouts and moves to push away but stops when he sees that the thing holding him in its grip is none other than the one vampire he'd allow to keep him there. He lets out a stuttering breath of relief and leans his head against Douglas's shoulder as he's carried from the fight at high speed. Together, they head back into the treeline.

Once they reach the top of the hill and are safely hidden away, Douglas sets Martin down, placing his hands on his thighs and panting.

"I haven't run that fast in years," he says, voice stuttering as he gasps for air.

Martin lifts himself from the ground, shaking hands gripping a nearby tree as he pulls himself to a standing position.

"What the hell-" he starts before he's cut off by a short cry of pain. His left hand leaves the tree in favor of gripping his aching chest. "Shit," he curses, voice shaking.

Martin falls back to his knees as he struggles to breathe.

"Martin!" Douglas says, immediately by his side. He kneels down beside him. "Let me see."

Breathing heavily, Martin removes his bloodied hand. "Worse," he starts, taking in another breath. "Worse than...I...thought. Oh god." He squeezes his eyes shut and replaces his hand. "Oh god."

Douglas quickly removes his jacket, folding it back into the usual makeshift pillow. "Lie down."

Martin leans back, breath coming in short pants. He cringes as his bruised back and head hit the ground and pillow respectively.

"I'll have you tell me exactly where else you're hurt later," Douglas says, watching Martin's face as he settles back. "This is the priority for now. Is this the only major injury?"

Martin groans and tries to curl in on himself, quickly losing all rational thought to the all-consuming pain of his injuries as the previous adrenaline filters out.

"Martin," Douglas says, voice stern as he grips Martin's blood covered wrists and holds him in place. "I need to know: is this all that I need to worry about for right now?"

Martin nods.

"Martin. Keep your eyes open. Yes, like that. Just watch me." Douglas bends down and pulls Martin's tattered shirt back to reveal the four jagged marks from just above his belly button all the way up to just below his left shoulder. He curses. "These are deep."

"No. Shit," Martin pants, trying to smirk before another wave of pain hits.

Douglas searches in his pockets and then in the backpack that Martin has acquired for anything that might help with a wound this big but finds nothing. "Martin I have a way to help you but you have to completely understand. I don't think there's another option."

"Ok," he says, voice strained. "Tell me."

Douglas bites his lip, looking back at the deep wound and strengthening his resolve. "Some of those ridiculous human myths about vampires are true," Douglas explains in a rush. "One of them is the fact that we have healing saliva when we choose to invoke it. It's a bit of a necessity, really, considering how vigorous some of us can get while feeding. It doesn't usually leave a scar but with wounds this deep, markings will be left behind. That doesn't really matter in this case, I suppose..."

"Douglas," Martin wheezes.

"Right, right," Douglas says, unused to being so anxious before. "Oi, Martin, eyes open. There, come on. The serum could be painful or you might not feel anything, I can't be sure - it's different with everyone. Do you understand?"

Martin nods, slower this time. He's losing energy quick.

Without further preamble, Douglas leans down and licks a stripe up the leftmost cut. Both he and Martin gasp, though he suspects for completely different reasons.

"Alright?"

Martin nods shortly and Douglas proceeds. Martin's blood tastes absolutely  _divine_  and in any other situation, he'd relish the taste. Here and now, however, he's far too nervous - concerned, even - to do much else besides subconsciously appreciate it as he works to save the man.

It's the work of only twenty five long seconds until finally - _finally_ \- Martin's breathing beginss slowing from it's worryingly frantic pace. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches Douglas sit up and wipe his mouth. He's exhausted from the blood loss and the energy it took to keep himself awake for those few desperate minutes.

"I've lost count," he whispers.

"Hm?"

"Of how many times you've saved me."

"Considering you're about to arrive at a village in which I'll be protecting you on a daily basis, I suggest you stop trying to keep a tally in the first place."

"Ha ha," Martin says, eyes closing. "Thank you, though."

Douglas brushes some curls away from Martin's face. "You're welcome," he responds. When Martin's breaths have finally evened out, Douglas rebuttons what's left of Martin's shirt, cleans some of the excess blood from his face, and picks him up.

"I'm counting this as 'physically incapable'," he murmurs. Douglas slings the pack over his shoulder and grabs his coat as he starts to walk in the direction of his - and soon to be Martin's as well - home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and kudos'd. Just a few words real quick:
> 
> The two cities referenced in here are what I've chosen for a basic location and time outline and nothing more. I've never been to nor have I seen these cities outside of Google Maps. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope this chapter's action was sufficiently written and that you've all enjoyed the story up to this point. :)


	4. Chapter 4

It takes twenty six long hours for Martin to blink his eyes open and immediately they find Douglas's own, remaining half-lidded and hazy. He's still severely exhausted, but he shakes it off as best he can. He looks around as Douglas slows to a stop, laying Martin on the ground to get his bearings.

"How long was I out for?"

"About a day," Douglas responds as he pulls a bottle of water from the backpack and hands it over. "Less than I expected, really. That kind of blood loss should leave you out for much longer."

Martin yawns as he peels his shirt back to look at the wound, sighing at how stiff it is. This shirt was his favorite before he was forced to run, and now it's little more than rags. Blinking hard he examines the wound, honestly surprised at what he finds there. The scars left from the quick healing are still colored a deep red, but they're completely closed up. He hadn't been particularly alert when the healing happened, and now that he can see the results first hand, he realizes just how lucky he was for Douglas's skill. Had he been left on his own, he would've died within minutes.

He finishes his analysis with a shudder, looking back at Douglas. "What were those things?"

"You've never seen them before?"

He shakes his head as he downs the water bottle.

Douglas sighs. "They're called Reapers and they're extraordinarily dangerous, as you have now experienced. Frankly, I'm impressed you withstood as long as you did against them; I've seen vampires who can't last more than thirty seconds."

Martin chokes as he drinks, the words shocking him into momentary immobility. Wiping his mouth with a shaking hand he says, "Vampires can't go up against those things?"

"Some can't," Douglas confirms. He glances at Martin, noting his pale demeanor. He leans against a nearby tree, crossing his arms and shooting what he hopes is a reassuring smile at the human.

"There are two ways a Reaper is made," he explains. "One is when a vampire tries to change an infected human, though only when the human has just recently been infected; no change occurs to fully-formed zombies. The second is when a vampire is infected by a zombie. That doesn't happen often - we can withstand many bites from them. It's hard to tell how many is too many, really."

"So they're not just zombies on steroids then. Right."

Douglas chuckles. "As you've seen they're huge and particularly vicious. There's a good chance that being bit by one will change you into a Reaper as well; however, we've never gotten a chance to test that theory. They're usually more focused on the devouring bit, especially in regards to humans. They travel in small packs of two to five generally and are extremely hard to take on. I myself, even, have a hard time fighting them."

Martin blows out a breath, nodding solemnly. "Well alright then," he says as he pulls a breakfast bar and a few pieces of chocolate from the pack. "Always good to know that there's something even more terrifying than the zombies themselves."

Douglas smirks and pushes off the tree. "We're not too far now; perhaps another day of walking."

Martin nods and moves to stand as well. Shaking, he pulls himself up to his knees but gives up when he can't seem to lift himself any farther. "Ok," he says, breathing slightly heavier than before. "That's weird."

"It's the blood loss," Douglas says, packing everything away and slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Even after that much sleep you'll be left weak, especially with the lack of food. Despite what your body's become used to, a breakfast bar alone doesn't do much in the way of replenishing energy after a wound like that. Now, if you don't mind..."

Martin rolls his eyes, looking very put-out. "Don't think I have much choice," he grumbles.

Douglas picks him up once more and situates him before reaching back for his coat.

"Does it have to be like this, though?" Martin says, voice coming dangerously close to a whine. He indicates the bridal-style hold Douglas has him in. "I think a simple 'piggyback ride' as you so nicely put it earlier would be just fine."

Still holding Martin with one arm, Douglas tosses the long coat over the human with the other. He situates them both and starts moving. "You've been shivering for the last half hour - that would be another symptom of the blood loss. You're cold, and it's much harder to keep a jacket on a sleeping human when they're on your back than it is when they're in your arms."

"Sleeping," Martin asks, but even as the word is out of his mouth, a yawn threatens to overcome him. "Who said anything about sleeping?"

"I did. You're obviously still tired - you should get some rest. I'll wake you when we get close to the village."

Martin huffs but concedes when he realizes he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open anyway. He leans his head against Douglas's shoulder and falls asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

Having to detour around Grajewo added a bit of time, but within only a few hours Douglas is able to see the village through the thinning trees. They're still fairly far out though, which is why he's surprised when he hears the distinct rustling sounds of two sprinting vampires coming his way. He halts, waiting for them to reach him.

Eliza lands in front of him, hopping down from the treetops while Isaac pushes his way through the bushes just to his right.

"Well well," Eliza says. "What a cute little human." She grins and gets in closer to see. "A ginger too! That's adorable. I love gingers."

Isaac snickers and steps up beside her. "This is unusual - you're usually so wary of interaction with them, I'm surprised you'd be willing to carry one all the way here."

Douglas rolls his eyes. "He's injured, obviously." Shifting Martin in his arms a bit, he cocks his head to the side. "I wasn't expecting a search party so soon. What are you doing all the way out here? Is something wrong?"

Eliza smiles at him and shakes her head. "Nothing big, no."

Douglas raises an eyebrow. "And that's supposed to reassure me."

Isaac shakes his head in exasperation and steps forward, pushing Eliza gently away from her inspection of the sleeping human. "We saw a group of Reapers pass by going West a few days ago."

"A group of three? We encountered them."

Eliza's eyes go wide. "Did you fight them all on your own?"

"Actually no," he responds. "Martin here fought two of them before I was able to reach him, though after that I rushed us away from the area."

Eliza tries to push past Isaac to get closer. "Brave _and_ ginger. Perfect."

Isaac rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Douglas. "Sorry about that," he says. "We let them by. Durai thought it would be best to avoid any conflict with only seven of us here at the moment. No need to frighten the humans unnecessarily."

Douglas blanches. "There are eight out for patrol? Who's idea was that?"

"Who do you think? The same man who decided to send one of the top combat fighters out on a human scouting mission."

"Stefan," he growls. "What the hell does he think he's doing. The point of our vil-"

"Douglas?"

Douglas stops mid-rant and meets Martin's bleary eyes. Martin blinks and looks around, scooting closer to Douglas upon seeing the other two vampires.

"Martin," Douglas says, voice softer than before. "These are my friends. Eliza and Isaac."

Martin nods and seems to relax. He's obviously wary of Eliza, especially, who, upon hearing his voice, cooed and crowded in even closer.

"Eliza good lord back up," Douglas says, his tone broaching no argument.

Eliza rolls her eyes, giving Douglas a significant look as she takes a full step back. Douglas lowers Martin's legs and helps him to stand. Martin wobbles and grips Douglas's arm tight, but after a moment, he's able to stand with only slight help from Douglas.

"Um. Hello," he says awkwardly, putting up a hand in a half-wave. "I'm, er, Martin."

Eliza grins while Isaac smirks. "Good to meet you," Isaac says. He looks from Martin to Douglas. "We need to check you."

Douglas sighs. "Oh fine." He helps Martin over to a nearby tree that the man can latch on to before leaving him there. "They have to make sure we've not been infected, Martin," he explains when he starts to look a bit panicked. "They can't smell us properly if we're too close together."

Martin swallows and nods.

Isaac approaches Douglas first, bending and straightening with every sniff. "Clean," he says after a moment. He nods to Eliza who does the same with Martin. She halts at his chest.

"Your scent is on him," Eliza exclaims, voice heavy with implication. "My, my."

Douglas holds his hand to the bridge of his nose as Isaac turns to him with a look of confusion. Behind it, though, Douglas can see the faint amusement there. "Like I said," he explains slowly, "Martin was in a fight with two of the Reapers. You didn't think he'd have come out unscathed did you? He would have died if left alone, so I healed him."

Isaac's eyebrows shoot up. "Full of surprises," he murmurs while Eliza giggles. She stops abruptly, shooting Martin a delighted yet apologetic look and goes back to checking him.

"All clean," she sings, backing up to let Douglas through.

"We're going to head back, then," Isaac says as Eliza jumps back up into the trees. "You two take your time - I'll alert Carolyn to the new arrival."

Once they're gone, Martin leans more heavily against Douglas. "Sorry," he says. "You'd think after so much sleep I wouldn't be so tired."

"Not to worry. Once we get there you'll have a nice meal and will be right as rain by tomorrow."

Martin smiles. "A meal. Wow."

Douglas shakes his head. "It doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?"

Martin hums and limps along next to Douglas. Just over an hour passes before Martin is able to see the village and when he does, he comes full stop, gripping Douglas's sleeve harshly.

"Oh my god," he says, voice quiet and somewhat reverent. "There's...there's a wall and...oh god." He puts a hand to his mouth.

Obviously he hadn't fully comprehended the size of the human population in this area. Douglas watches as he rubs at his eyes, embarrassed. He looks back to the town that Martin won't take his eyes from. For him, it's a familiar view and, as such, it doesn't hold as much wonder as he's sure it does for newcomers.

The town is surrounded by a hastily-crafted though obviously sturdy wall interrupted only by a gate just big enough for a few people to fit through at a time. Two vampires stand sentry, one nodding at Douglas as he watches. Inside the wall is a small community. At its center is a clear area where town meetings are held, surrounded by an area for a market, and encircling all of that stand several makeshift houses. They're not exactly heavenly, but to anyone who's been sleeping in abandoned office buildings and the woods for the past year, they must look amazing. Small fires are burning in between groups of shacks, adding to the community feel.

The shacks nearly fill up the remaining area between the walls and the community center but for an area at the northernmost point in the town where a single large building sits. It looks to Martin like a miniature castle. The three spires on the front denote its gothic style architecture, and the only color on it besides the grey-black brick comes from the stained glass windows.

"Whose house is that?"

"That house was my coven's before all this started. We built the city around it and now that's where we stay while the humans populate the remaining area," he replies.

Martin nods and continues to take in the small city. "Is there enough space for me? It already looks so packed."

Douglas smiles. "You'll be fine, trust me. Even if there weren't empty houses, a number of people would be glad to take you in. It's amazing, really. I would've expected people to become more selfish with all of this but instead, people - at least people here - are ridiculously gracious."

Martin grins up at him. "I don't know what to say."

"Well don't say anything. Let's just go meet your new neighbors."

Martin nods vigorously and pulls Douglas forward.


	5. Chapter 5

"Clear," Lydia says, giving Douglas a cold look as she backs away. Tomas nods and moves on to Martin. "That was rather quick, wouldn't you say? Fifteen days seems a little convenient doesn't it? Have you had one hiding away just for the occasion?"

"Clear," Tomas says, smiling brightly. "Welcome to the village, Martin. I'm afraid we don't have a name, but it's home to us all the same. I'm sure Carolyn will be happy to meet you; it's been awhile since we've brought in anyone new."

Martin nods, still obviously uncomfortable around the new vampires. "T-thanks. Um. Thank you."

Douglas inclines his head towards Lydia as Martin stumbles over a conversation with Tomas, staring sidelong at her. "It is most certainly convenient; finding such a fine human in a short time was a true stroke of luck for me."

She looks at him incredulously. " _Fine_ _?_ Now there's a word for it." 

He glances at Martin once more before turning more fully towards her, getting in close. "Your ignorance is truly astonishing. If either you or _Stefan_ has a problem with the human I've brought to us," he hisses, "then he can talk directly to me. For now, however, I think even he should be pleased with Martin here."

Tomas coughs into his hand and Douglas turns to see Martin staring at him with wide eyes. Douglas sticks out his arm for Martin to hold on to and they pass through the entrance, Douglas pointedly ignoring Lydia's sneer while Martin glances quickly between the both of them as they walk.

"What was that?" Martin whispers once the gates are completely closed.

"Hm," Douglas responds, looking into the air. "You'll recall my telling you about a certain vampire who thought I wasn't doing my fair share. His name is Stefan. _That_ was Lydia, one of his supporters."

"You guys are fighting?"

Douglas smiles reassuringly. "Oh there are always little fights to be had in a community of immortal beings; it's nothing you have to worry about. Now," he says, leading the way to the center of the town. "Carolyn has been alerted to your arrival and will be waiting for you in the community center. After you meet her you'll be led to the medical center to tend to your wounds and then to your house where you can change."

"Change?"

Douglas smirks. "We can't allow you to be walking around in those tattered blood-soaked clothes can we? Each person is given four shirts, jeans as well as shorts, and one pair of pajamas upon their arrival."

Martin staggers as if he's been hit. "A change of clothes. And I thought the houses were the best part."

"You'll like this more," Douglas says. "There's a bathhouse in the marketplace and newcomers always get bumped up to first place on the schedule."

Martin guffaws and places his hand over his mouth again. "Stop it Douglas, you'll make me cry."

"That's not a hard thing to do," Douglas muses, chuckling when Martin pushes into him.

"Martin, is it?"

They stop as a stern voice reaches them from the front of the center circle. Martin looks up and meets the steely stare of a small woman he assumes - after all the descriptions Douglas gave him - to be Carolyn. Though she must be towards the end of middle age, her look of pure intensity is all business as her gaze travels over Martin. He's immediately intimidated by her.

"Yes, er, yes ma'am."

Carolyn steps down from her perch on the small stage and walks through the various onlookers to address him. It's only then that Martin notices how many other people are in the town with him and he grins broadly despite the very scary woman walking towards him.

She stops a few centimeters in front of him, eyes still taking in his dirty, bloodied form. "My name's Carolyn. While I appreciate the ma'am it's hardly a necessity." She extends her hand, taking his in a firm handshake. "Now you, Martin, look like you've really been through it all."

Martin scratches his head and looks around nervously. He looks awful and he knows it, and now that he's paying more attention, he can see everyone else in the marketplace staring at him. What does he see on their faces? Disgust? Pity? Fascination?  He breathes in a deep sigh, trying to calm himself a bit. "Yeah. You could, um, you could say that."

Carolyn places her hand gently on his shoulder, her face softening as he turns back to look at her. "Calm down; you're safe here. There's no need to be so nervous."

He smiles gratefully at her.

"Now," she says, completely serious once more. "You need a trip to the med bay; you're obviously hurt. We'll hope those wounds on your face aren't infected, though after this long I doubt it. Just so you are aware, we also have a psychiatric ward. I suspect you'll need it after being forced to travel with Douglas here for such a long period of time."

"Hey now."

She smirks at Douglas before reaching out an arm and taking Martin's weight from him. "Douglas should go make his report to Durai. Shoo, vampire, off you go. Martin will be safe with me."

Douglas rolls his eyes and looks to Martin for confirmation before he walks off in the direction of the vampires' housing.

"Now then," Carolyn says, clapping her hands. "You know my name and you also likely know my position in this society. While I'm technically the leader, I don't do much besides pass on information from one group to another and keep things organized. Surprisingly, it's not as much work as you'd expect - people here are unprecedentedly competent."

She turns them to the left, leading them slowly to the large building with the extremely recognizable red cross painted across the front. "Your first day will likely be a whirlwind but, seeing as how we don't get a lot of newcomers, I'll have the time to stick with you through it all so you don't get lost."

Martin nods, relieved at the words though still emanating tension as he limps along beside her.

"Now for some explanations. I'll keep things brief so you don't get overwhelmed. Firstly: this is our makeshift hospital. Dr. Christine Breton is the only one with a legitimate medical degree, but she's taught the others what they need to know to keep it functional.

"Within there as well we do actually have a psychologist on duty. Andrei, one of the vampires, went to school and got the degree and, as this community came together, taught other like-minded people the tricks of the trade. It's not the best, but in this new world of ours, it's likely the top facility you'll find."

Surprised at the thoroughness of the small town, Martin inclines his head in acknowledgement.

"Luckily, there are no appointments so you can show up any time." She stops and looks him dead in the eye. "You're by no means required to go there though you should know that absolutely no one would judge you if you did. Considering how long you've been out there, it's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. There's someone on duty twenty four seven."

Then, almost as an afterthought (and in a poor attempt to hide her brief display of concern): "The last thing we need around here is someone made useless because they feel too embarrassed to get help. Don't be that person."

Martin smothers a smirk at the poor facade and Carolyn huffs as they continue on.

"This town functions on a strange mix of a barter system and one of trust. Our only enemies are the zombies - we can't afford to be up against each other. I don't expect you to understand it right away but all you need to know is that you won't go hungry and we try to make you as comfortable as possible."

"You'll be able to choose your job tomorrow," she explains, pushing back the cloak on the doorway of the hospital. "You don't get paid considering everyone here has to work to keep us moving, though occasionally you'll be allowed to take useless items to trade later. The lack of immediate incentive, however, does not mean you get to slack off. You'll make friends at your job and in this city if you're doing your part. People here are friendly enough, but as soon as you get on their bad side, you're done. We're not afraid to exile anyone." She looks him over and smiles a bit, though it's not in the least bit comforting. "I don't expect that to happen to you though. I can tell."

Before Martin can reply, they're interrupted by a nurse and taken to one of the beds.

"It's nice to meet you, Martin," the nurse says, smiling as he pulls the privacy curtain back. "I have your new clothes here. I'm sorry to say that your current clothes don't look as if they can be saved."

Martin nods, understanding but sad all the same. He looks down at the uniform shirt that had served him so well for the past few months and sighs. "Alright," he says, reaching to pull it off. The nurse helps him to undress while Carolyn pointedly looks the other way to give him some semblance of privacy.

The nurse inspects his wounds after handing him a blanket, muttering about stitches before excusing himself.

Carolyn spins around and inspects his old outfit. "You were a pilot," she says, running a hand over the tattered logo. "Air England. That's not a bad airline."

Martin smiles. "I was only a first officer but I still loved it - it was my one dream in life, really," he says. "I worked there for long enough that I was able to fly my family out of England quicker than others. I'm not going to lie, I miss it."

Carolyn nods in understanding. "My ex-husband and I owned an aeroplane. I thought it might be amusing to own my own little charter airline but Gordon always refused." She steps back, shaking her head of old memories before turning to look at him. "So your family...did you separate from them after you landed?"

"No, actually." He swallows, steeling himself. "We stayed together for as long as we could - they all died though. The last person with me - my brother, Simon - died about five weeks before Douglas showed up.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Carolyn says, strangely quiet.

"It's fine," he says. "I like to think that at the very least they'd be happy that I've found this place."

She smiles. "That's a lovely way to think of it," she responds, just as the nurse walks back in with another person. 

"Martin," he says, "this is Dr. Breton. She makes a point of meeting every newcomer. I'm going to leave you under her care while I go take a look at some other patients."

Martin nods, watching as Carolyn and Breton say their hellos. The doctor has medium length, light brown hair and glasses held securely to her head by a thin string of rope hanging around her neck. Like the nurse, she's wearing a long white coat that's obviously seen better days and a stethoscope - an addition that makes Martin smile. She turns to him with a small smile.

"Well, Martin," she says, her voice airy and extremely soothing, "you look like you've been through a bit of hell, my dear."

Martin snorts and Carolyn smirks. "Sorry," he says. "Yes. I suppose that's what it can be called."

Breton smiles and shakes her head. "It's fine. I understand it's an understatement. I haven't been past the walls in so long, sometimes I forget how brutal it can be. Though by the look of you, I can imagine it's worse than I remember. Now,"

She lifts a pad of notepaper and looks over what's written down.

"I'm going to read these off and you let me know if we're missing anything. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Ok. There seems to be significant bruising on your left ankle, the same one you've sprained. There's recent scarring on your chest but I don't think we have to worry about those. You've got intense bruising on your back and scratches on your back left shoulder that need some stitches. I see some deep cuts on each of your hands and wrists that can't be stitched but do need to be watched over. Finally, there's the faded bruise across your nose and the two sets of claw marks on your face, one of which will also need stitching. Did I miss anything?"

"I hit my head when I hit my back. I don't think it's anything major but..."

Breton nods. "We'll want to check it over anyway. Luckily we have a specific type of thread that can withstand water so you'll be fine to wash up afterwards. Since there's no one to stay with you, we'll send someone by your house tomorrow to check up on you, if that's alright."

Martin acknowledges her words, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the clear-cut manner of it all. Breton moves from one task to another: perfunctory, though still somehow calming. 

Stitching him up doesn't take very long at all and as he leaves, he's given a cane and a "starter pack" as Carolyn dubs it, filled with clothes, various first aid and hygiene essentials, a personal mirror for shaving, and some food. From there, he is led to the bathhouse. He revels in the warm water provided for him. He revels even _more_ in the provided soap and shampoo. It takes him ages to work through the dirt and the matting, time well worth it when he walks out, allowing the sun to catch on his ridiculously long curls. He smiles, having forgotten exactly what color his hair is.

"The Doctor would be jealous of those ginger locks," Carolyn calls from where she's been waiting for him.

Martin blinks - confused - and then grins. "You watched Doctor Who?"

She smirks. "My son loved the show and I must admit, the new ones weren't too bad. At least the special effects were better in the more recent episodes."

They discuss the show some more as she leads him from the marketplace to the surrounding neighborhood and Martin finds that he likes Carolyn a lot. While she tries to act stern he has to agree that Douglas was right when he said she has a huge motherly instinct. That's not to say he's not afraid of getting on her bad side; he can tell she has the ability to be as harsh as possible when she wants to be. Now though, as they walk side by side, he feels comfortable. For the first time since he's been here, he feels as if he might fit in here.

The come to a stop in front of a small shack labelled 107.

"Welcome to your new household," she says, opening the door. "Again, it's not much. It hardly retains heat but you have blankets for that. If it gets too bad in the winter, you're welcome to sleep in the community center.

"There's a cot and a small kitchen. Most people don't use the kitchen much since meals are provided in the town center but if you want something more private, you shouldn't have a problem getting the necessary supplies for your own meal. These units don't have bathrooms but you've probably seen the various outhouses on the way here. There are ten in the town center and several others in the neighborhoods surrounding."

She stays outside as he passes through the threshold, amazed at having his own place after so long.

"That should be it," she says, smiling at him once more. "There aren't locks on these places but if you have a problem here or see anything suspicious, let me know and I'll talk to the vampires."

"Okay."

"It's good to have you here, Martin. I hope you enjoy your stay and learn to think of this place as home as we all have."

"Thank you," he says, closing the door behind her.

He turns and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Douglas sitting nonchalantly on his cot.

"God! Douglas you scared me."

Douglas smirks. "Apologies," he says, leaning against the wall. "You look much better all washed up."

Martin rolls his eyes. "And I thought the thick layers of dirt and grime really gave me a more more rugged look," he quips.

Douglas laughs. "It at least saved my eyes. Your natural ginger hair is so bright it nearly blinded me when I saw it," he jokes, dodging the shirt hurled at him. He sobers up and watches as Martin explores his small house. "How are you liking our little village?"

Martin pauses in his close examination of a spatula to look back at him. "I'm not sure. Ask me in a few days after I've gotten over the shock."

"It is a lot to take in, I'll give you that."

Martin hums and places the utensil back on its hook. "You um...You shouldn't feel obligated or anything to check up on me or something."

Douglas tilts his head. "Is that a kindly-veiled 'piss off'?"

Martin whips around to look at him. "No! I mean. I just thought. You said..."

"I told you days ago that I was near the top of my coven but I'm by no means the leader - I gratefully give up any and all responsibility to Durai and Giselle. As long as I'm working my shifts on lookout I can do whatever I want on my down time. Coincidentally, what I wanted to do was come by and see how you were doing."

"Oh," he replies dumbly. "That's good, erm, nice. Thank you."

Douglas chuckles and lifts himself from the cot. "You, on the other hand, shouldn't 'feel obligated' to keep thanking me."

Martin nods and keeps his mouth shut, watching as Douglas moves closer. He sniffs the air around him before backing up and inspecting Martin's stitches.

"You still smell a bit like me," he says, tilting Martin's head from left to right. "I didn't expect that."

"It's fine."

Douglas doesn't respond as he continues to look at the stitches. "Did they give you pain medication for these?"

"No," he answers. "They don't hurt much so I told them to save it."

Douglas rolls his eyes and steps back. "Really, Martin, our scouters are able to pick up medications; you'd be surprised at how much they find on each trip."

Martin shrugs. "It's ok, really. I've had to go without before on worse injuries."

"The ones I healed don't count," Douglas sighs, exasperated.

"I'm not talking about those," Martin says while simultaneously smirking at knowing something Douglas doesn't and grimacing at the memory. It leaves a strange expression on his face that makes Douglas unsure about pursuing the subject furthur.

Martin rolls his eyes and lifts his shirt. "It's fine, Douglas, it happened a long time ago." He points to four scars on his right side and moves his arm to show another set of four - longer this time - on his arm, stretching from the elbow to the wrist.

Douglas leans in close, gripping the arm and bringing it to his face to look closer. "These aren't from a zombie," he says. "They're too clean."

Martin affirms his suspicions with an inclination of his head. "I got these from the vampire that attacked my dad. He had me first. It grabbed me at the elbow," he indicates the top of the scar, "but Dad pulled me back. The thing jumped on him and I tried to fight it off and got the ones on my side for the trouble. After I was knocked back my sister grabbed me and told me to run."

Without thinking, Douglas takes a step back. Martin grabs his wrist and holds him in place.

"You remember as we were travelling, I said I was a bit wary of you," Martin says, still not releasing him. "But you helped me. You saved me and you genuinely seem to care about me and you know what? Now I trust you implicitly even though I've only known you for such a short time." Martin lets go of his wrist and steps back. "Around you, I'm completely comfortable. It's other vampires that I need more time with."

"I didn't know," Douglas says, trying to think back to their meeting with Eliza and remember whether he saw fear in Martin's face when he'd assumed it was simple apprehension at meeting someone new.

"Of course you didn't," Martin murmurs, bending to meet Douglas's downcast eyes. "I didn't tell you. Outside, there's no time for complaining or reconsideration. When you asked me if I wanted to come with you, I thought about it and I picked the lesser of two evils. I know now that I definitely made the right choice. I'll be fine so stop looking so guilty - it doesn't suit you."

Douglas blinks at him and smirks slowly. "I'll have you know I've never felt guilty a day in my life."

"Liar," Martin says as he walks back to unpack his things. "Now. Carolyn said something about communal dinners or whatever."

Douglas hums and moves to pick up a satchel that he'd left by Martin's bed. "On your first day here, you're not expected to leave your house. I'm sure Carolyn plans to send someone with food for you later so that you can rest but I just so happen to have some here."

Removing his new shoes, Martin lays back on his cot, testing the comfort. He watches Douglas take items from the satchel. "You brought me food?"

"But of course, seeing as you don't have any. I am, in fact, an excellent cook, though I don't have much reason to put my skills to use anymore."

"Oh, well, thank- I mean. What are we having?"

He grins back at Martin before rustling around in his bag for a set of matches. "Chicken with sauteed vegetables. You're not allergic to anything are you?" Douglas waits for Martin's negative response before he starts pulling out various spices and vegetables. "Just the chicken and veggies, I'm afraid; there's not room for much else in here, though I doubt you'll be able to eat much as it is after getting used to a breakfast bar or two a day."

When Martin doesn't respond, Douglas turns only to find that he's staring longingly at the chicken that's been placed on the poor excuse for a counter. He laughs and goes back to setting everything up.

The house is silent save for the occasional popping noise of the pans as Douglas works. When he's finished, he places the items artistically on one of the two plates that the house comes with and reveals it to Martin who looks about four seconds away from full-on drooling. "Eat up," he says, handing Martin the necessary utensils. "Careful not to overdo it, though. Don't feel as if you have to eat it all."

Martin waves his hand absently as he digs in. He's awkward, at first, with the utensils, having not had a need for them in a year. After a few bites, though, his muscle memory takes over and he becomes slightly less barbaric. Douglas observes from the single seat in the two-room house, laughing at Martin's sounds of pure pleasure made after every bite.

Martin manages to make his way through a good half of the chicken before he looks meekly at Douglas and says, "I don't think I can eat anymore."

"It's fine," he replies. "There's no electricity in the housing district for refrigerators so we can't save it. I'll go out and give some to the children across town - I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

Martin nods and rummages in his pack of clothes for his pajamas. "The sun hasn't even fully set yet but I'm dead tired," he says, yawning as he pulls off his shirt.

Standing, Douglas takes the pan and the plate over to the kitchenette. "I expect you would be. Now; you'll have to take these down to the market tomorrow. There's a little stand there where you exchange your plates for clean ones and they take them out just beyond the walls to clean them." He turns back as Martin finishes getting changed. The clothes are large on his skinny frame, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"If I were you," Douglas says, "I wouldn't take that job. Washing peoples' plates is bad enough but leaving the walls to do it is even worse."

Martin leans back and gets comfortable on his bed, sighing and closing his eyes. "They go on their own?" he asks sleepily.

"No. A vampire is assigned to each group that leaves - only two may leave at a time. There are four groups that go beyond the walls to complete their tasks daily."

Martin watches Douglas take a seat in a nearby chair through increasingly-bleary eyes. "You guys have really got your stuff figured out."

Douglas shrugs one shoulder, conceding the point. "I suppose we have Carolyn, Durai, and Giselle to thank for that. They work so well together, it's almost as if they expected the apocalypse to happen and planned accordingly."

Martin giggles but is stopped mid-way through by another yawn. "When do I need to be up?"

"Don't worry about that; someone will come by to get you. Wake up call is another job you can take, though that one sounds almost worse than the plate washing."

Martin nods slowly, his smile falling slack on his face as he loses himself to sleep. Douglas waits for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of the man's chest before he stands. He grabs the chicken and opens the squeaky door as quietly as he can, leaving Martin to get as much rest as possible before his next day in his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, with how extensive this AU is, there are going to be plenty of OC's in here. I'm trying to keep the main ones down to a minimum so there's not too much confusion. I hope you all like or at least tolerate my OC's :). 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

"These are the open positions in the town," Carolyn explains to him the next morning as they walk through the building with the stage out front that Martin has dubbed city hall.

Martin looks at each, reading the descriptions. "We can do more than one?"

"Of course; the more efficient this town is the better. Though I don't suggest it for you until you've gotten a good handle on your schedule."

"Right," he agrees, going back to the large bulletin board. "These ones are written in a different color. What does that mean?"

"That's good that you noticed," she says, stepping forward. "The ones in red are the ones that require daily travel outside of the walls. With the vampires, it's not a big problem but they're still dangerous jobs nonetheless."

Martin nods and goes back to reading. "Well I'm a terrible cook," he says, "so I think we can scratch that one off of the list. Actually I think the only one on here that I'd be really good at is repair work. I used to haul stuff around for some extra cash; I should at least be able to handle the manual labor portion."

"You're sure?" she asks. "It's not in red but occasionally you have to go out to fix the walls."

Martin smiles at her as he picks up a pen to put his name on the list. "I was outside of the walls for a full year. I think I can manage."

"Oh no need to be cocky about it," she grumbles. She watches as he writes his name, eyes scanning the page. "Your manager will be Natasha - one of the hardest workers here. I'm sure you and her will get along splendidly. You can meet your crew tomorrow since they're already out working today. They either meet in front of this building or at their work site; Natasha will usually let you know. We only have supplies for about ten people to have alarm clocks so, just like this morning, you'll be woken by someone for your shift."

He nods his understanding, still impressed with the organization of the humble town.

She pulls him away from the jobs board and to a desk across the room. "This is Martin," Carolyn says to the teen behind the desk. "Unit one hundred and seven."

"Got it boss," the boy says, reaching underneath the desk and coming back up with an old fashioned Polaroid camera in his hand. "Smile, Martin."

Without any other warning, the boy snaps his picture and waits patiently for the result to print. Once it's completely revealed Martin's awkward smile, the boy writes Martin's name across the top and his house number across the bottom and hands it to Carolyn.

"Thank you Timothy." With the picture in her hand, they walk over to another bulletin board with a large picture-covered map across the room. "Let's see here," she mutters. She reaches up and tacks his picture onto the map, just over the small drawing of a household with the number 107 in the center.

"There. That'll help others recognize and find you. As you can see, the pictures correspond to the house that someone is in. Timothy over there keeps the records of all newcomers and will probably be by your house later to get more of your information."

She points to the picture of a woman with the number 26 on it. "That's Natasha," she says. She pulls him over to an adjacent board, one covered in only a few pictures. "And these are the vampires," she explains.

"They don't have much of a hierarchy. All you need to know is that their coven's leaders are Durai and Giselle," she points to each picture respectively. "Durai tends to take charge in public, though. Giselle is the quiet sort, leading behind the scenes. Douglas and Stefan are extremely powerful and are considered by some to be the next highest in their grouping." She glances at him, rolling her eyes. "But those two butt heads so much, you can hardly take them seriously."

Next to their pictures is a list of names. "I assume Douglas has told you the deal we have with the vampires."

Martin nods and reads the fifteen names on the list.

"This week is group five. You'll be in group number six, replacing Jacob."

"What happened to Jacob," Martin asks, voice tight as his eyes roam down the vampires' side where each of the eight within the city have scrawled their names next to their desired human.

"Oh nothing. He arrived here with his grandchildren months ago and, by necessity, has been given retirement status as of last week. No one below the age of twenty participates nor, now, does anyone over the age of seventy. Unless, of course, there's some kind of medical issue at which point we draw a new name. The list will always have fifteen names no matter how many vampires are out of town."

"So are we assigned the same vampire every time or...?"

"The vampires lay their claim after the names are placed here on the board. Generally, yes, they stick with someone they're familiar with - it's better for both parties. Though no vampire gets exclusive rights to a human unless...Well. No one gets exclusive rights."

Latching on to that cut off sentence, Martin turns to her. "Unless what?"

"Unless a vampire bonds with a human, but that's only happened once. The vampire and the human are both taken off the lists and the vampire can feed on them at any time. Bonds are dangerous, though. Those who bond form an extremely strong mental connection that, if broken, can kill either one of the participants. When I arrived, a young man named Victor was bonded with a vampire named Chryslin."

Martin looks back at the pictures of the vampires, brows furrowing as he reads. "I don't see her on here."

"She was killed on a scouting trip. The moment it happened Victor collapsed on his job. Within hours, he was dead as well."

"Oh," he breathes, unsure how to respond.

"That was actually something I wanted to talk to you about," she says, leading them out of the room and back into the flurry of activity outside. "I've never seen Douglas act with a human as he did with you," she murmurs, making sure to keep the conversation just between them both.

Martin snorts, looking anywhere but at her as his face heats up. He chuckles nervously. "Annoyingly sarcastic? Condescendingly witty?"

Carolyn gives him an unimpressed look, her raised eyebrow stare telling Martin exactly how well his diversion tactic worked. " _Kind_ ," she says, voice imploring. "Caring. Douglas has never taken an interest in anyone - not their feelings or their health outside of what's necessary information required for his weekly feedings. None of us expected him to actually return with someone, let alone someone injured who would require his assistance getting here. His actions around and regarding you are most unusual." 

Martin splutters and stares at her. "You're not saying..."

She stops and holds up a placating hand. "I'm not trying to make any implications, I just want to warn you. Douglas is a man who at any point in time has at least a couple ulterior motives hidden under his belt. You need to be careful." She spins and keeps walking. "I can tell you that should anything happen, there will be absolutely no judgement from me or anyone else. I simply find it prudent to warn you. I don't want to see another case like Victor's."

Martin has no idea what to say, following her in silence for a few moments. "Do you, um, do you think anything will...happen?" he asks, not quite sure how he feels about the prospect.

Carolyn smiles, though the sinister quality of it doesn't do anything to reassure him. "Can't be sure with that man. Just be on your toes. Don't let him trick you into something you don't want. Understand?"

"Ok," he says slowly, following her into the communal cafeteria.

"Oh and one more thing before I leave you here." She turns and stares at him with the same intensity from the day before. "If he does try anything that you don't like, you let me know. Just because he's a vampire doesn't mean he has free reign to do whatever he pleases at the potential detriment of others."

"Alright," he agrees, apprehensive but thankful that he has someone willing to look after him now. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," she says, glancing around him into the cafeteria. She nods her goodbye with a brief, slightly more comforting smile and turns to leave.

He looks around the cafeteria, feeling as if he's back in primary school. He was never very well liked and as a result ended up being forced to sit alone while also simultaneously being stared at while it happened. He sighs, making his way to the back of the line.

Despite taking longer than everyone else at every station, he makes his way through with only minimal embarrassment. He tells the final woman with a notepad his name and avoids making eye contact with anyone as he rushes over to the first empty seat he sees.

It's not long before someone sits down next to him; not an entirely unexpected turn of events, considering the fact that there are only eight very long wooden tables in the room. What  _is_ unexpected is when that someone tries to talk to him.

"Martin, right?"

Martin looks up mid-bite, glad that he'd remembered to reign himself in while eating this time, rather than make a horrid mess as he did the night before. He sets his fork down and smiles. "Yeah. Um. Hi."

The man nods, staring coolly back at him. "I'm Carl," he says as he shakes Martin's hand. "It's good to meet you."

"Erm. You too."

Carl smiles. "No need to be so nervous - I don't bite." He sits back in his seat, looking at the ceiling. "Though now that I think about it, that's not a very good turn of phrase to use in this little city, is it?"

Martin chokes on his food, surprised into stuttering giggles at the nonchalant comment. He just barely manages to stop himself from spitting it all over Carl. "No," he says, pounding his chest. "No I suppose it's not."

Carl smirks and hands Martin his glass of water. "Though to be honest, most of the vamps are pretty tame too. For my sake, I'm happy, though I'm also slightly disappointed." He laughs at Martin's inquisitive look. "Well," he starts, "if we're going to be in an apocalypse, why not make it bigger and better with scary vampires? I feel like we've been cheated."

"Oh vampires are scary. These ones just aren't hungry."

Carl gives him an appraising look and nods, sobering up. "True. Anything that sucks blood to survive is pretty creepy no matter how calm they are, I suppose."

They sit in a slightly awkward-tinged silence as they eat.

"Now," Carl says, clapping his hands. "I think I saw your name signed up under the repairmen crew, am I right?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles. "Don't look so suspicious. One of my jobs is bookkeeping for the town. I work for both the vamps and for Carolyn." He leans in close and whispers, "Though to tell you the truth, Carolyn is far scarier."

Martin laughs again, though this time (thankfully) his mouth is empty. "She's pretty intense, but I like her."

Carl nods approvingly. "We all do. Just make sure not to get on her bad side," he warns.

"Oh I've figured that one out," Martin agrees, nodding quickly.

Carl smiles at him, eating a bit more of his lunch before continuing. "Alongside being a bookkeeper, I alternate working every job this small town has to offer, making sure everything's continuing to run as smoothly as possible. Chances are you'll see me around. Between you and me, being a repairman is my favorite job." He takes a bite from his dinner roll. "Natasha's a great lady. I'll introduce you two later."

"Thanks," Martin says as he stands with his empty tray.

"It's no problem! I've got to get back to work but my shift ends in a few hours. You explore a bit and I'll find you later and introduce you to some other important people."

"Alright, Carl."

Carl raises his hand in a wave and walks away, leaving Martin alone to wander the town.

A hush falls over the crowd that Martin is in just as he's leaving the breadmaker's booth. It's strange, really, as he looks around. Some people are staring wide-eyed and reverent at the center of the crowd while others are muttering and looking wary if not at least a bit frightened.

Martin pushes his way through to get a glimpse of the spectacle and finds that everyone is parting to allow a group of vampires through. At least he thinks they're vampires - from this distance all he can see is that they're dressed impeccably, just like Douglas.

Martin backs up alongside the other humans around them and watches as one of the vampire leaders that he knows as Durai walks by with two others. He recognizes one as Stefan but can't remember the name of the other woman walking beside him.

He doesn't realize he's made eye contact with Stefan until the vampire's expression changes from one of general dislike and disdain of the crowd around him to a soft smile. Martin quickly lowers his head and waits for them to pass.

He sees Durai's traditional Indian shoes - Jutti, if Martin remembers correctly from his travels - pass on the ground below him but Stefan's plain black dress shoes stop just in front of him. He looks up meekly, vaguely aware of the other people around him staring in both shock and interest. He stares at the vampire's chin, refusing to look him in the eye again.

"So," Stefan drawls, his voice a thick mix of several different accents acquired over the years. "This is the human that Douglas dragged back." He says the name with obvious contempt and Martin is both insulted at the implication that he was dragged anywhere like some stray cat and frightened at the thought that Douglas's apparent enemy knows him just because he was brought in by the man; he doesn't think that bodes well for his own future.

Without warning Stefan's hand shoots out, gripping Martin's chin in a punishing hold as he raises the human's head to eye level. "Martin, was it?" he says, not really expecting an answer as he sniffs the air around him. He sneers. "You smell of him."

"Stefan," Durai warns, finally turning around to view the proceedings.

Stefan smirks and lets go of Martin's face. He leans in close and whispers, "I suggest you wash up."

He turns back to the female vampire and they resume following Durai through the crowded street.

Martin watches as most everyone else turns back to what they were doing, some shooting him pitying looks, others looking as if they wouldn't come near him with a ten foot pole. He sighs; leave it to him to be the pariah of the friendliest city he's ever come across. Within the first twenty four hours, no less.

"Well I'm sure as hell glad I wasn't brought in by Douglas."

Martin turns to see Carl watching the vampires go. "What are you doing here?" he asks. "I thought you had work to do."

"I do." Carl holds up a stack of papers. "I've been trying to find Durai all day. That vamp loves to walk around and check up on everyone while leaving me behind with all the work that he's supposed to have looked over hours ago." He sighs, completely exasperated.

His expression changes from one of vague annoyance to one of near-concern. "Then when I finally catch up to him, he's just coolly watching as one of the biggest dramas in our little city unfolds." Carl rolls his eyes. "Durai's a nice guy but he's always been wary of stepping in and breaking up disputes despite the fact that all of the vamps look to him and Giselle for guidance."

Martin throws up his hands. "The 'biggest drama'? Just perfect."

Carl chuckles. "Alright maybe not the biggest, but it's certainly unusual. I didn't think Stefan's contempt for Douglas would spread to those that he's helped."

"Yeah well that's just my luck I suppose." Martin glances around, watching the crowd of people around him as everyone goes about their daily business. "You're telling me he scares the living hell out of _everyone_ Douglas has helped?"

Carl shrugs. "Maybe he would if Douglas helped anyone else. You're the first person he's ever associated with besides feeding as far as I know."

Martin closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Of course."

Carl leans in close and sniffs. "Well if it makes you feel any better, I don't smell anything on you."

"Thanks for that." Martin rolls his eyes.

Carl leans back and looks at him with a very serious expression. "Be careful though, alright? The fight between Stefan and Douglas is something you do not want to be a part of."

"Er, alright."

He brightens and pats Martin on the shoulder. "Though if you're already in it, there's no turning back, I suppose. Just watch your back and come to me or Carolyn if there are any problems."

Martin's nods vacantly, not sure what to say to that. "Thanks?"

He smirks and holds up his stack of papers. "Still got work to do. I'll talk to you later."

"Right."

Hours later, Martin meets his manager when Carl practically drags him from his own house to hers. It takes them about ten minutes to cross the encampment to reach her house and in that time, Martin works himself into a frenzy thinking about how he should act around her.

Obviously this new world isn't like the old one where to get a job an application and subsequent interview was to be had - thank god for that - but was it still formal? Did he call her ma'am? Was he supposed to keep eye contact with her as much as possible? Martin had never been very good at interviews, or working in a professional setting, for that matter.

"Relax," Carl whispers as they approach her door.

Martin nods and takes a few deep breaths as Carl knocks on the door.

The woman that answers seems stern as she immediately crosses her arms, leaning against the door frame as she watches them with her eyebrows raised. Her large blue eyes watch them with both curiosity and boredom, though Martin is distracted from them by the three claw scars that stretch from the corner of her left eye down to below her chin, disappearing inside her pajamas.

The pajamas she wears are the standard issue but the bottoms have been hemmed into shorts and her t-shirt is, instead, a form-fitting tank top. Her auburn hair sits atop her head in a messy bun with a few strips falling from it and hanging around her face.

"Carl," she greets, speaking around the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She directs her attention from Carl to Martin, looking him over. "And...oh what was it again? Marvin, I think?"

"Martin," Carl corrects.

"Right right. You signed up for repair work, Martin?"

"Um. Yes," he says, voice only slightly shaky. "Carolyn said you're my manager."

"Course I am," she says, straightening up. "We had room in shift A I believe. Is that where you're signed up?"

"Yes."

She nods and removes the cigarette. "All you need to know is that I don't tolerate laziness. When you're assigned to work, that's what I expect you to do. If anyone's giving you any shit, you come to me and let me handle it and then you get back to work. If you finish a job and don't have anything to do, you also come straight to me. It's my job to inspect your work so it had better be pretty damn good the first time or I'll make you take it down and start again."

"Got it."

"Besides that, there's not much else. Occasionally we work outside but you'll be given ample notice if we are. Shift A works from around seven in the morning to ten and again from one to four.

"It says repair on our sign up sheet but we also tear down and rebuild. You may have noticed that this unit 26 is slightly better than your own. That's because we've started re-doing the housing sector. We're on housing section sixty through seventy right now and that's where you'll meet us tomorrow morning. Will that be a problem?"

"I don't think so."

She looks him up and down. "You're pretty skinny..." she trails off and then shrugs. "Assumptions are a thing of the past, I suppose. You think you can do this, then I won't question. Just know that if I deem you unable to perform your tasks I'll put in an immediate request for transfer."

"Alright," he says.

"Well, Martin. It was good to meet you." Then, as an afterthought. "Your ankle won't be a problem?"

"Resting yesterday helped it; it shouldn't be an issue."

She nods. "Good. Carl, thanks for bringing him by. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Martin."

"Yes'm," he says as the door closes.

"See?" Carl nudges him. "Not so bad. She's very to the point, but she's also very nice. If you get on her good side, she may even offer to hem those too-large clothes for you," he jokes. "She's a bit of a professional when it comes to that stuff."

"I was expecting someone..."

"Older? Almost everyone does when they hear about her. You never ask a woman her age but if I had to guess I'd say she's about twenty hm...seven. Twenty seven sounds right. She actually just came in three months ago. All alone like you."

"Wow," Martin breathes. He stopped being surprised by how much the destruction of the world has the ability to mature a person months ago, but he's still in awe when he sees such a perfect example.

Carl stops them in the city center. "Well, my house is the opposite way of yours, Martin, so this is where we part ways. Enjoy work tomorrow."

Martin shakes his hand, grateful for a man like him to be around to help him. "See you around, Carl."

"You too," he says, turning away. "Work hard, and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he sings as he disappears behind the laundry station.

"Cheeky," Martin mutters and smiles. Despite what happened with Stefan earlier, he feels happy. Comfortable. For the first time in a long time, he thinks everything might just work out to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I've been sick and my laptop was on the fritz for a bit, though it seems to be working now, luckily. I hope you enjoyed this chapter - Natasha is one of my favorite OCs :).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So so sorry about the long wait. As I said before, I was sick and ended up staying sick right up until Spring Break during which I went and visited London and Paris! I'm back now, though, and ready to update :). For those of you who couldn't wait and read this on ff, I'm sorry I haven't updated that in awhile either. I'll likely be posting a new chapter this weekend, schedule allowing!

The town is so simple and the people so trusting, it takes Martin several days to even begin to get used to it, let alone feel comfortable with it all. His first days are spent awkwardly - he remains quiet, overly polite, and generally makes himself into a shadow unless he's supposed to work on something, in which case he jumps at whatever job it is with more fervor than every other worker combined.

He realizes his problem almost immediately: he's unused to so many people. The idea of being part of a society is an antiquated one that leaves him nervous. Not only that, but the one person he _had_ become familiar with - Douglas - doesn't show up again for a good week, leaving Martin feeling awkward and alone in everything he does. Even, he finds, when he tries to fall asleep. It's ridiculous, really; he'd been on his own for so long, he thought he wouldn't be affected. Somehow, though, he'd gotten so used to having the vampire there when he nodded off that now he finds it strange being alone. 

Luckily Carl foregoes any questioning when Martin arrives to the cafeteria on the first few days with deep bags under his eyes. He chooses to ignore Martin's strained looks, instead doing his best to explain as much of the town as he can to Martin whenever they're both on break. He's effective in his duty, and by the end of his first week, Martin is finally getting used to the routine of it all. He begins to think he's finally gotten a hang of the tiny town, that he's finally learned all that he has to. Which is why he's startled when the city's so far unused bell starts ringing.

He's working on rebuilding unit sixty eight with three others when he hears the bell in the tower over city hall go off. It's a muffled sound - they don't want to attract zombies, after all - but it's louder than anything he's heard in the city thus far. He stops, unsure of what it's supposed to mean.

"You probably haven't heard that yet, have you?" Natasha asks, walking up behind him, voice slightly muddled as she speaks around her usual cigarette.

"No..." Martin says, watching as everyone continues working. "What does it mean?"

"It signals the switching of groups for the vamps. In three days, group six is up."

Martin blanches; he'd forgotten over the course of the week he was in that group.

"That's you then?"

Martin confirms with a nod.

She pats him on the shoulder. "No need to worry, you get the four days you're gone plus the next off."

"What?" Martin says in an embarrassingly shrill voice.

Natasha gives him a look bordering on pity, pulling the cigarette from her mouth. "I'm sure Carolyn was going to have a messenger or someone explain to you when you receive your notice on what vampire you're paired with, but I suppose now's as good a time as any."

She pulls the hammer from his hand and leads him away to the edge of the group.

"The vamps keep you for four of the seven days of the week to feed on. Each vamp is different in their feeding pattern; some feed everyday, others every other day. It doesn't really matter since they have this serum or something in their saliva that forces your body to make blood at a faster rate than usual should they chose to activate it or whatever they do. It doesn't hurt or anything, all you have to do is eat something for it to work properly. So as long as they make sure you have enough blood first, they can feed whenever they please." She holds up a hand at Martin's growing look of apprehension.

"But," she continues. "Durai has one solid rule and one rule only for his coven and that is consent. Your vamp is supposed to make sure you're ok and feeling alright before they feed. If they don't abide by that rule, you go straight to Carolyn."

Martin takes a deep breath and nods. The panic previously flaring in his chest has dulled, though it hasn't disappeared entirely.

Natasha smiles. "Other than that it's not a bad gig, really. The vampires have no use for them, usually, but nonetheless they have the best, most comfortable beds in the whole compound. Beds that we humans get to use in their stead. You stay in their castle of a house, but it's not a problem since generally you're too tired to do much besides lay around anyway. If you get a nice vampire, they'll even bring you food. You should take a pack of snacks, though. Just in case."

She pats him on the back. "You'll be fine, newbie, trust me." She looks back at his shift partners, frowning slightly as she watches them work. "Now you should get back to work."

"Alright. Thank you."

She tilts her head in acknowledgement as she walks away. He goes back to his work, intent on simply finishing his last shift of the day and getting home. Luckily, he's skilled in the ways of pushing through and compartmentalizing feelings for later. It's how he's able to wait until he's home to start shaking uncontrollably.

It isn't a big deal, really - everyone in the town is fed on just like he will be in a few short days. All he can think of, though, is his first encounter with a vampire. He knows that no matter how much pain it might cause, it's a momentary thing, a fleeting memory in the grand scheme of life. He knows, goddammit he  _knows_  that being fed on for a few minutes throughout four days is nothing compared to being eaten alive and possibly changed into a mindless zombie. The protection is worth it, the community and the safety and the comfort are all worth it.

The thought doesn't stop his shaking, though.

He manages to calm himself when he hears a knock at the door, taking a few deep breaths before he opens it to find Carl.

"Hey, Martin, just came to deliver your notice," he says, handing Martin a piece of paper. "You give that to Natasha as confirmation that you've been selected by a vampire for this week. She trusts you, I'm sure, but for organizational purposes, you understand."

Nodding slowly, Martin unfolds the paper and reads it. "Eliza?" he squeaks out, double and triple checking the name on the piece of paper.

"Yessir. She's always the first to make her decision if she's in the city. You're lucky! She's an excellent vamp to have."

"Right. Um. Thank you Carl."

Carl nods and meets his eyes. "You'll be fine, Martin. Trust me on this one. You hardly feel a thing."

He has a very hard time believing that, but smiles anyway in hopes that visibly relaxing will get Carl to leave and allow him to return to his own personal panic. "If you say so."

Content with that answer, apparently, Carl spins around to leave. "Take it easy for the next couple of days," he yells over his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure," Martin mutters, going back to lay numbly on his cot, hoping that the lack of motion will allow him to fall asleep. The last thing he wants to do is stew in his own memories and the feelings they unearth. He'd much rather just sleep, hopefully dreamlessly.

Another knock on his door a few minutes later leaves him annoyed and exasperated. Where before he'd been half asleep, he's now wide awake once more and his previous jitters have returned. Martin closes his eyes, trying to quell his uneasiness before answering. The decision about whether or not he should open the door is taken out of his hands, however, when it opens on its own. Despite the initial panic, Martin is able to relax a bit when Douglas peeks his head in, nodding at Martin before walking all the way inside.

"You're in group six," he says without preamble as he closes the door. "I wasn't aware."

"And I wasn't aware vampires were allowed to just randomly enter people's homes," he tries to joke as he sits up, hoping to regain some form of normalcy and calm before Douglas notices anything.

Douglas waves a hand and continues with the original topic. "I would've thought you'd be tacked onto group eight or the recently-created nine. Six makes no sense."

Rubbing his temples, Martin sighs and gives up on directing the conversation down any other path. "I'm a replacement for someone. Jacob, I think."

Douglas just barely manages to reign in his sneer. "Oh  _finally_. That man's blood is basically dust as it is." He glances back at Martin and immediately sobers up, furrowing his brow. "Though replacing him with someone new rather than another townsperson is ridiculous, especially so close to when the group in question is up."

Martin shrugs and looks away, feigning interest in his hands picking at his blanket. "It's no big deal."

"Is that so?"

"Of course. It's fine. Totally and absolutely fine. Yeah. Just fine."

"Martin," Douglas says, waiting until he's looked up at him to continue. "I've only known you for just about three weeks now, but I think it's fairly safe to assume that when you say you're 'fine' three separate times, it means you are most definitely  _not_  fine."

"Really, Douglas. I'm fine, just drop it," he snaps, looking away again.

Instead of dropping it, Douglas moves closer. "You're nervous."

"Why shouldn't I be?" He closes his hands into fists, trying hard to contain his minute tremors.

"No," Douglas breathes. "It's more than that. You're well and truly scared."

Martin chooses not to respond to that. He sits staring at his shaking hands until one is unexpectedly picked up by Douglas.

"Is this about your father?" he asks quietly.

Martin bites his lip, now staring at his thin, pale hand encased in Douglas's far large one. He thinks about Carolyn's warning and wonders what Douglas's "ulterior motives" could possibly be in this situation. "I. Erm. Yes. Yes it is."

He blows out a breath of air before continuing. "When you're on the run, there's not much time to dwell on things that properly terrify you. There's no time to reminisce about things that in any other situation may have made you physically ill for days. Now though...Now I have ample time to think about it."

He continues to chew on his lip. "When my dad pulled that vampire off of me, he was attacked. I've never really had the time to just think about how that attack affected me before but now I can't seem to get it out of my head." He looks up and meets Douglas's eyes before abruptly looking away. "My father was a stoic man. He never had much to say, was always like a rock in our family. That day, though, he was scared. He was _terrified_  and in so much," he chokes, "so much pain. I'd never heard him scream before.

"I know a bit of pain for a few minutes is nothing compared to being on the run all alone but I'm still scared. God I'm scared and it's absolutely ridiculous," he finishes, using his free hand to rub angrily at his eyes.

Douglas is silent as he rubs Martin's hand, trying to soothe out the tremors. "The reason," he starts, clears his throat, tries again. "Feeding, for both the vampire and the human, is all about preparation and peace of mind. If the human isn't properly calmed or willing, then those thoughts translate into pain when they're bitten. Otherwise, the experience is mild; usually humans feel nothing at all and, occasionally, they feel good when bitten."

He grips Martin's chin suddenly, much like Stefan did days before, but this hold is much gentler, working to calm Martin rather than frighten him. Douglas gently turns his head back to him. "Your father was surprised and scared, probably over what could have happened to  _you_  as well as over the fact that he had no idea such creatures even existed. Those feelings of uncertainty and worry made it hurt. I can promise you that you'll be fine. No matter who you get paired up with, you'll be treated kindly and will be moved only at your own pace."

Martin searches his eyes for any form of deception but can't find any. He leans forward until his head is on Douglas's shoulder. "Alright," he stutters out. "I trust you."

"Good," Douglas says, using his other hand to hold Martin's head in place. "I am sorry, though. I was hoping to get you for your first time, seeing as how you're already comfortable around me. It would have made it easier."

Martin shrugs and doesn't say anything.

"I didn't know it would affect you this much though," he continues, absently running his fingers through the man's ginger curls. "If you want, I might be able to get Eliza to trade with me."

Martin considers and shrugs again. "If it's too much trouble it's fine. She seemed...nice enough."

Douglas chuckles and the sound rumbles through his chest, shaking against Martin's cheek. "It wouldn't be a big deal. I may owe her a favor later, but nothing major. She chose you because she simply likes to try new things, but if I let her know about the situation..."

Martin sighs, most of the tension seeping from his shoulders. "That might be best."

Douglas smirks and Martin smiles against his shoulder. They sit like that for long minutes until Martin's shaking is replaced by chuckles.

"Do you know what Carolyn told me the other day?"

"Probably something boring about the structure of this city or some other nonsense," Douglas replies.

"It was about you, actually."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Martin turns his head just enough to watch Douglas from the corner of his eye. "She told me that at any point you have one or two ulterior motives at work behind whatever you do."

Douglas hums. "She knows me well. Though one or two is a little low - I'm a bit insulted."

Martin straightens up. "So what's your ulterior motive for all of this?" he asks, waving a hand to indicate himself. "I don't have any influence or goods or anything."

Douglas smiles as he considers. "Well, as far as I can remember, your blood was absolutely delicious," he says. "Better than I've had in quite some time."

"Should've known," Martin replies with a small smirk.

"But what did I just say, Martin? There are always multiple motives."

"So what's number two then?"

Douglas leans close. "For the past few days I've been thinking. About you, specifically."

Martin blinks. "What?"

"I was thinking about how close we were despite the fact that I don't generally associate with many humans. I was thinking about the lengths I was - and still am - willing to go to in order to protect you. I was thinking about how bloody terrified I was when you collapsed in the forest after that Reaper attack. I was thinking about how you might be doing without me here to help you."

Martin's eyes are searching Douglas's face, but he feels calmer than before - far more comfortable simply watching Douglas right now than he has been at any other time thus far. His head is tilted and a small grin is playing across his lips.

"I was thinking," Douglas concludes, "that you may, in fact, be the first human I've ever been infatuated with since my change. I honestly did want you for your first time so that you'd be comfortable with the transition, but I also want you because that means you're all mine for four days without any interruption." He pauses and smirks. "I suppose that was another ulterior motive that you can add to the list."

Martin sways forward a bit, unused to such declarations in his direction. "And if I said no?"

"Would you have?"

"Oh I don't know," he says, a bit coyly. He feels rather ridiculous, but Douglas isn't laughing or raising an eyebrow or even rolling his eyes. 

Douglas smiles. "If you'd said no, we'd have left it as a strictly professional feeding." And then, at Martin's rather incredulous look, "Scout's honor."

"But you don't want that."

"Not particularly, no," Douglas drawls.

"That's good," Martin says.

"So," he continues, still staring at Douglas and not making a move to leave his personal space at all. "I think we can safely assume that my answer would be yes...what now?"

"Oh I don't assume. I make sure," he responds. Douglas leans infinitesimally closer until his lips are just hovering over Martin's. "Alright?" he breathes.

Martin grins. "Just fine."

Quickly retracting his fangs, Douglas leans in and kisses Martin. He keeps it chaste, at first, waiting for the man to respond before he continues. He has no idea how far Martin wants to take this, and isn't willing to risk botching it up right from the start. He doesn't have to wait long, however; Martin seems to realize that the vampire isn't going anywhere and his hands jump from the cot to Douglas's back, gripping the material of his shirt harshly.

Douglas takes that as a sign, allowing the kiss to become more heated. He completely takes control, placing his large hands on either side of Martin's head and running his fingers through the curls while Martin's own continue to scramble helplessly on his back, eventually settling for retaining their grip on his shoulders.

Almost immediately, he runs his tongue along Martin's lips. It takes but a second for Martin to get the message and he opens his mouth, gasping as Douglas's tongue explores, running over the barrier of lips and teeth.

Turning the kiss slightly slower, Douglas runs his tongue over Martin's own, reveling in the soft noises and breathy groans that the simple action draws from the touch-starved man. He coaxes Martin's tongue into his own mouth, letting out a quiet moan when Martin immediately mirrors his earlier actions. 

They continue this pattern of give and take, the sounds of kisses mingled with heavy breathing filling the small room. Martin kicks the blanket from around his legs as much as he's able and hooks his leg over Douglas's. Douglas responds in kind, pressing his body against Martin's, feeling the need to be as close as possible as he sucks on each of the man's lips.

The position is precarious, and the absurdity of the two men on the tiny cot hits Martin suddenly, making him laugh. He breaks off, breathing heavily and staring at Douglas with crinkled eyes, giggles shaking his body. "That was, um," he stops, still chuckling. "That was intense."

Douglas murmurs, "Quite. I apologize if I went too quick. I must admit I got rather ahead of myself there."

Martin responds by vigorously shaking his head. "No no. It's fine, just...unexpected."

"I suspect you're a little more eager than usual after being alone for so long," Douglas says, leaning down and placing his nose where Martin's shoulder meets his neck. "Which is why I think this is enough for tonight."

Martin nods and leans his face against Douglas's. "Carolyn told me a relationship with you would be dangerous."

Douglas laughs. "She said that? I must be more transparent than I thought."

Martin smiles. "I think she was probably right, though."

Douglas leans up, scooting Martin over on the tiny cot just enough so they can both fit while laying on their sides. "Oh she is. Vampires are dangerous beings, after all. Besides that, there's Stefan you have to worry about. If he finds out, there's a very good chance he'll try to make things unpleasant for you."

Chuckling, Martin responds, "He's already got that one covered."

Douglas stiffens beside him. "What, pray tell, does that mean?" His voice is calculated - nonchalant - but Martin sees right through him.

Martin raises his eyes from their focus on his and Douglas's hands lying so close together on the small bed. He raises his hand, setting it on top of Douglas's. "It's nothing, really. It was a stupid thing that happened a couple days ago."

"I didn't hear about this," Douglas says dangerously.

Martin sits up and looks him in the eye. "It's really nothing, Douglas. He just walked by me and said...oh what was it? He said that I still smelled of you and that I should wash up. All in all a very weak statement."

"It was a veiled threat is what it was," Douglas says. "Just because I brought you in," he mutters, looking away.

"Douglas," Martin says. "He doesn't scare me. If he tries anything, I'll let you or Carolyn - whoever's closer - know right away. Alright?"

Douglas doesn't look anymore relaxed but he agrees anyway. "Don't let him scare you. Don't let him stop you from getting help if he does anything. Promise me that, Martin."

"I can't imagine a scenario in which I would agree to stay quiet."

Douglas hums, and they're quiet until Douglas asks, "Have you eaten tonight?"

"I had something on the way back from work a few hours ago. I'm not particularly hungry now."

"Good," he responds, using his free arm to gently push Martin back beside him. "I don't feel much like moving."

Martin laughs. "Are we having a lie-in already?"

"No. Lie-ins are generally reserved for the morning."

Martin scoffs. "Alright, fine. Are we  _cuddling_  already?"

Douglas grimaces at the word but nods begrudgingly. "If we must, then yes. Though hopefully you'll be asleep soon - you do have work in the morning, after all."

Smiling, Martin shifts so that his back is pressed against Douglas's chest. "Are you going to lay here all night?"

"Might," Douglas replies, watching the slight sliver of Martin's face that he can see relax. "You're very entertaining to watch while you're asleep."

Martin yawns. "That's not creepy at all."

Douglas shrugs and runs his free hand through Martin's curls again. "I suppose it is. Will that be a problem?"

"Shouldn't be," Martin says, smiling as his eyes grow heavier. "I kind of missed having you around while I slept..."

Douglas's hand continues to run through Martin's hair as the man loses himself to sleep. "And I missed being here," Douglas mutters, relaxing back against the wall and settling in for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like posting so many notes in one chapter but I did want to add on two more things. Number one: this is the first published fic of mine that's explicitly romantic so I'm a little self-conscious with it. Comments and concrit are definitely welcome. 
> 
> Finally, as always, thanks for reading my crazy au. Check out my [writing tumblr](princesscocoa.tumblr.com) for updates.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a warning for bloodplay is necessary in this chapter. I'm not really sure if it counts given that Douglas is a vampire and all, but please let me know if you think a tag is necessary :). Thanks for reading!

When Carl sits down across from him at lunch the next day, it's obvious to Martin that he's barely containing himself. His face is jumping between several different emotions at such a quick rate that Martin can hardly pick them out. He thinks he's able to identify amusement before it's quickly wiped away and replaced by concern. When Carl finally decides to talk, though, it settles on heavy implication.

Martin draws in a breath - already he knows how much of a gossiper Carl is, and the face the man is currently sporting makes Martin wary of what he's about to hear.

"So," he starts, drawing out the word as if he were a cliche teenager.

Martin finishes his bite and glances up at him. "So...what?"

Carl's face contorts, and for a moment he looks almost crazy with excitement before returning to a more stoic position. "You'll never guess what happened this morning. Or perhaps you will."

"What," he asks around a mouthful of potato. Whatever it is, it must be huge for Carl to be freaking out like this.

"Douglas and Eliza came in today requesting a trade. For you."

_Of course that's what it is_ , Martin thinks, barely managing to reign in an eye roll, _of course it's something to do with me_. Martin shrugs, deciding to try to calm Carl down with a nonchalant attitude. "And?"

Carl leans back, linking his hands behind his head. "I can honestly say that such a thing has never happened before. Douglas hasn't ever - and I mean _ever_ \- cared about his human before. In fact, he's usually the last to sign up for anyone."

Martin's mouth twitches and he tries hard not to grin. He hopes his face isn't giving away too much as he says, "Maybe it was Eliza."

"Eliza was excited as I've ever seen at having you as her partner, so no. This was all Douglas." He looks searchingly at Martin. "Is that going to be alright?"

"It's perfectly fine - I trust him."

Carl blanches. "That is literally the first time I've ever heard anyone say that."

Martin shrugs and finishes his meat.

Carl continues to stare at him as he eats. "What happened between you two out there?"

"Nothing, really."

He snorts and crosses his arms. "Yeah, sure." He goes back to his own plate of food and Martin is thankful that the conversation is over; that is until he says, "You know, I was talking to Christine the other day, right after you came in."

Martin sees where this is going immediately. "And what did she have to say?" he sighs.

"She said that when you came in," he points at Martin with his fork, "you had some pretty harsh scarring on your chest. The scar itself wasn't life threatening but it indicated an extremely recent and very intense - probably fatal - injury."

"Where are you going with this?"

He tilts his head, shrugging one shoulder. "She wanted me to find out how that might have happened. Her words were 'it's a miracle that he managed to survive that and I want to know how'. She wanted me to read Douglas's report to Durai."

"Ok..."

Martin's disappointment must show on his face because Carl immediately goes to reassure him. "I told her I'd rather ask you." He smiles when Martin relaxes a bit. "You see, the doc is a scientist by rite. She gets so into a mystery, sometimes she forgets that her subjects are actual humans. Normally, she's one of the kindest and most logical people you'll ever meet, but give her a puzzle and she becomes absolutely rabid."

Martin gives him a soft smile. "I didn't know it'd be such a big deal."

"Any happy turn of events is a big deal around here. The town itself is content as it is, but no one's forgotten the world we're hiding from."

Martin nods understandingly and looks around before shrugging. "Ok. If Breton wants to know, I guess it can't hurt." He leans in, making sure he doesn't have to raise his voice any more than necessary in the crowded cafeteria. "I figure with the reactions I'm getting so far, though, the information might just cause an uproar with you people."

Carl smirks. "It was Douglas, wasn't it?"

Martin confirms with another nod. "We split up in a town in Poland because we heard someone else there. While I was alone, I came up against two Reapers-"

Carl cuts him off with the loudest gasp of surprise that Martin's ever heard. "You were alone?"

"Yeah. At the time I didn't even know what they were."

"Christ."

Martin smiles a bit, feeling his cheeks heat up at the look of praise Carl is currently sporting. He coughs a bit into his hand and continues. "Well anyway, I only had a stick as a weapon and while I was able to keep them at bay until Douglas ran in, I got a pretty bad scratch from here," Martin indicates his shoulder, "all the way down to about here."

Carl's wide eyes follow his hand. Obviously he wasn't expecting this kind of story when he asked. Martin smirks for a moment, surprised that he's managed to so completely silence Carl.

"Douglas had encountered another one but managed to get away. He grabbed me and ran. Once we were safe enough away, we realized just how serious it was. It was either let me die in the next few minutes or save me, and Douglas chose to save me." Martin shrugs again. "That's it really."

Carl's eyebrows knit together as he thinks. "But when vampires heal a wound, there's not a trace of it left."

"It was too deep, that's why it looked like a recently-closed wound. It's better now, though."

"Wow. Just..." he sits back, eyeing Martin. "Wow. He must really love you," he says absently.

Martin chokes on his water. He hits his chest as Carl watches, looking apologetic.

"Sorry," he says. "Sometimes my mouth moves before I can think. I just mean it's surprising. Like I said before: Douglas hardly associates with any humans besides using them as food and occasionally protecting them when they leave the walls. For him to have been willing to save you and risk going up against not one but two Reapers...Carolyn was right when she said he actually seems to care about you."

Martin rolls his eyes. "You all need to stop talking about me behind my back."

"Oh come on, now. You're the best piece of gossip we've had in a long time."

He snorts and picks up his tray. "I'm glad I can be of so much entertainment," he says jovially. He glances at the wall clock. "I have an hour until my second shift and I still need to grab my dishes and take my laundry down."

"Alright," Carl says. "Don't forget to grab some snacks for while you're at Douglas's. If you wait until tomorrow, you'll have to go with the others on your shift who've been chosen and there's no telling how much they'll buy. Some of them do the grocery shopping for the whole two months after their return before they go."

Taking note of the advice, Martin waves a quick goodbye as he steps out into the cool air.

 

* * *

 

Instead of the usual wake-up girl two days later, Martin is woken up by Carl. The man holds up a mug of coffee (a bit of a rare commodity around the town) and smiles when Martin opens his eyes.

"Everyone going on their shift gets a cup of coffee on their way over to the vamps' place – or the castle, as I like to call it."

Martin sits up and stretches. He looks at his satchel filled with food and back to Carl before grabbing the cup from him. He tilts his head in silent thanks and stands up.

"Should I bring all my clothes?"

"Oh right!" He reaches into his bag, pulling out a set of clothes. "You'll wear these the whole time and the vampires wash it themselves. The last thing you want are any bloodstains on your only four outfits.

Martin cringes, remembering sharp teeth, a blood-stained chin, tattered and soiled clothes hanging off the body of his father. The memory hits unexpectedly and he falters as he reaches to grab the outfit from Carl's hands. Carl gives him a look, pushing the clothes in his direction, trying to meet Martin's hands where they've stopped. "Alright?" he asks.

Martin gives a brief and likely completely unconvincing smile as he takes a breath, realizing belatedly that he'd stopped breathing for a moment. "Fine," he replies, a little breathless. Martin grabs the clothes quickly, turning around to change and take another shaky breath. "Alright," he says, blinking hard. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Carl takes Martin's bag from him while he drinks his coffee. They weave their way through housing sectors until they're at the very back of the circular complex, facing the small grass yard and cobblestone walkway just in front of the great mansion.

"Well this is…something," Martin says, craning his neck to see to the top of the house.

Carl smiles indulgently. "It's really a sight, isn't it? Trust me when I say the inside is ten times as incredible as the outside. The place is nice by the _old_ standards which makes it completely incredible now."

Martin nods, glancing back at Carl. "So," he starts awkwardly, hoping his trepidation doesn't creep into his voice. "Do you just leave me here?"

Carl chuckles and pats his back. "I take you inside and either leave you with your vampire if they're up front, or take you to their room. With Douglas I'll have to take you to the room."

Martin positions himself behind Carl as much as he's able to as they walk inside, but as the great double doors close behind them, Martin forgets his fear for a moment to stare in awe at the room. He pushes slightly out from behind Carl to get a better look. The front room his huge, with staircases on either side of the room and various doors. It's lit by seemingly hundreds of candles.

The walls are lined with large paintings and photographs, all sitting atop the striped grey and black wallpaper. There are several settees and chairs throughout the room, all set accordingly around the large fireplace in the back of the space.

There are nine vampires in the city currently, and five of them are in the room when they walk in; all of them turn to look at the pair. Martin recognizes all but one.

Giselle is laying with her back to the door, her long black hair hanging over the armrest of the scarlet settee as she tilts her head to get a good look at him before dismissing him again. Lydia looks at him with a look somewhere between contempt and amusement. Durai is sitting on a ledge near the stairs, glancing at them before he returns to carving on a piece of wood. Finally there's Eliza, who rushes over as soon as she sees Martin.

He flinches as she approaches but makes brief eye contact with her before quickly looking towards the floor again. She truly does seem harmless, but he's already severely uncomfortable as it is and having Eliza so close is only making it worse. Carl, seeming to sense his uneasiness, grabs his arm, trying to lead them to a staircase as Eliza chatters on about nothing. He keeps his head down, nodding along and very occasionally speaking whenever she gets quiet.

They're only halfway to the right hand stairs when Eliza's presence is suddenly gone. Carl gasps and Martin's head snaps up to see that Douglas is gripping her upper arm, near-forcefully pushing her out of Martin's space.

"That's enough," he says, meeting Martin's eyes for a moment before turning back to Eliza. "What did I tell you?" he hisses.

By now the whole room is looking on, all with a look of amused curiosity. Durai is staring on with the barest hint of interest, an eyebrow raised as he watches the pair. Douglas sighs when he notices and releases her. He turns to Carl.

"Thank you for bringing him. I can take it from here."

Carl glances at Martin, eyebrows raised high before comically saluting Douglas and leaving. Once the door closes behind him, Douglas grips Martin's elbow in a gentle hold and directs him to the staircase, careful to walk so that he blocks Martin's view of the other vampires.

The hallways they walk down seem to last forever and during the intervening time Martin is able to relax little by little. Eventually they turn right and open a gorgeous cherry wood door into a vast bedroom. The wallpaper is the same as the rest of the house, but what's significantly different is the white-sheeted bed in the center. The bright color seems to fit in with all the dark, surprisingly, even with the two other dark chairs in the room.

Martin ignores those and the various dressers in the room in favor of walking over to the bed and feeling the sheets. It's a king sized monstrosity that has to be thousands of pounds more than anything he's ever bought in his life. He holds the sheets between his fingers, in awe of the soft texture.

From behind him, Douglas's deep throated chuckle reaches him. "It's the simple pleasures in life," he mocks, coming up behind Martin.

"I've never seen sheets this nice. Ever."

Douglas sits on the bed directly in front of Martin and takes his hands. He kisses one, and then the other and Martin sighs, any remaining tension finally leaving his body. "Being a vampire has its perks," he says, smiling.

Martin smiles back. "Thank you. I nearly had a panic attack down there."

Douglas's face darkens. "I saw that. I was in the library reading when I heard Eliza start babbling. I figured it was her human until I heard you say something. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Martin says, stepping forward until he's standing between Douglas's legs, " _now_." He leans down and steals a slow kiss from the vampire. Before it can turn any faster, though, Martin leans back until his lips are sitting just above Douglas's. "How exactly is this supposed to go?"

Douglas leans back until he can see Martin's eyes better. "You mean the blood-drinking?" he asks with a smirk. He laughs at Martin's eye roll and says, "There are two ways to start. For those who are a bit wary of actually being bitten, I use a nail to cut your hand or arm and-"

"Lap up my blood like a dog?"

Douglas scoffs and continues. "That's about the gist of it, I suppose. If I don't bite you, there's no chance of feeling anything, good or bad. Otherwise I bite you, though I don't usually start with the neck on a first time."

"That's fine. The biting will be fine," Martin says a little too quickly, still wary despite having Douglas here with him.

Douglas chooses not to continue the subject any longer. He pulls Martin down until they're sitting side by side on the bed. "You'll want to stay seated just in case – you never know just how severely blood loss - no matter what the amount - can affect you."

Realizing that he's far hungrier – and far more eager to taste Martin's blood again – than he thought, he picks up Martin's arm and rubs a finger a up and down the underside.

Martin swallows. "You're sure it won't hurt?"

"Only if you don't trust me. Calm your mind and you'll be fine. I promise. And no matter what, if you want me to stop, just say the word."

Martin closes his eyes, breathes, and looks back at Douglas. He nods.

Slowly, Douglas brings Martin's arm to his mouth. Picking a spot mid-way down his upper arm, Douglas bites in. It's chaste by his standards; so tiny that it barely even breaks the skin. Martin gasps at the break but when Douglas glances up at the man, he doesn't seem worried.

A few droplets of blood hit Douglas's tongue and ignite across his taste buds like fire. He finds himself wanting so much more before he's even swallowed, his self control very nearly waning for a moment. Martin's blood is surprisingly even better now than he remembers, better than he expected; so good he very nearly moans with pleasure, though he manages to catch himself before any potentially embarrassing sounds release themselves.

He bites in deeper, relishing the hot blood as it slides into his mouth. The taste consumes him, and it takes him a few extra seconds, then, to notice that Martin is stiff beside him. He quickly pushes back, licking the wound closed as he goes.

"You alright?" he asks, slightly more breathless than he intended. Douglas mentally punches himself - no matter how good the blood, he should never have lost so much control so easily.

Martin nods, biting his lip. "Fine."

Douglas grips his hand, worry etching his features. "That's not ok. I can tell by your posture that something is up and you need to tell me. This isn't going to work if you don't trust me enough to speak to me."

Martin releases his lip and looks everywhere but Douglas. This is unusual for him – he doesn't seem frightened or anything of the sort; more…embarrassed.

A slow smile spreads across Douglas's face as realization dawns. "You liked it."

Martin's cheeks turn a bright shade of red and he looks down. "Yes. It felt good. That's it. That's all it was."

"You're a terrible liar," Douglas says, leaning in to catch Martin's eye. "I've lived for over one hundred years, Martin, I can recognize when someone is turned on."

Martin's breathing is heavy, but he still won't look at Douglas. The vampire relents, pulling back until they're facing each other on the bed.

"I assure you the feeling is mutual," Douglas says. "How it feels is a direct result of your trust and emotional state in regards to me. You believe in me, you know deep in your mind that I won't harm you and because of that you're willing to place yourself wholly in my care - more than that, your subconscious mind wants to give you to me. That, Martin, is very sexy to me."

He leans back and watches Martin glance peevishly up at him, probably not realizing how attractive he looks as he stares at Douglas through his eyelashes.

"It's very rare," Douglas continues. "Honestly I've only ever heard of humans feeling the way you do when they're in a bond."

Martin looks at Douglas then with a totally incoherent expression on his face.

"Though, of course, just because your subconscious mind is projecting something doesn't mean you're required to listen to it," he says, deciding to play it safe and treat Martin's look as one of trepidation. He pauses then, watching Martin before shrugging. "All of this might explain why your blood tastes so good to me."  

Martin smiles and, gaining some confidence, pushes into Douglas's personal space. "If it tastes so good, maybe you should continue," he murmurs.

"My pleasure." Douglas reaches for his arm again but Martin pulls it away.

"I think I'd like you to bite my neck instead," he whispers, voice slightly deeper than before.

Douglas grins, wasting no time as he leans in. He uses one hand to tilt Martin's head to the correct angle and the other to keep a steady hold on his left arm. He finds his preferred area and, sensing Martin's slight impatience, postpones biting by licking the area where neck meets shoulder instead. Martin shivers and waits for Douglas to continue.

Only because he himself can't wait much longer, either, Douglas bites in as slowly as he can. He hears Martin gasp again but this time he recognizes it for the sound of pleasure that it is. He licks at the blood as it drips from Martin's neck, sucking the smallest amount possible to prolong this for as long as he can.

Every bit of blood tastes even better than the last and this time, he doesn't bother to suppress his moan. Martin groans and scoots ever closer, practically sitting on his lap as he grips Douglas's shirt tightly in his fists while he stretches his neck – bearing as much as he possibly can to the vampire.

Douglas doesn't realize his eyes are closed until he opens them wide when Martin grinds down on his thigh. Douglas bucks up in response but grips Martin tight when he goes to drop his hips again. He licks Martin's wound closed once more and leans back.

"I need to make sure this is what you want," Douglas says, breathing heavily.

Martin rolls his eyes but nods in understanding.

"While your subconscious mind is translating my biting you into something sexual, that doesn't mean your waking mind agrees. Believe it or not, I am fine just drinking your blood and nothing else. I would very much regret going too quickly."

Martin scoots up the bed until he's not touching Douglas at all. He crosses his legs and closes his eyes, looking for all the world as if he's meditating instead of considering Douglas's words. Douglas waits, watching as Martin's head tilts, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. It takes a few moments but when Martin opens his eyes and looks back at Douglas, he's smiling.

"I'll admit I'm pretty touch-deprived, but honestly – and isn't this embarrassing to say – it's not a feeling I'm terribly unused to: I know how to handle it and how to control myself. Skipping over that, your bite feels like sex because I want to have sex with you…" he trails off, his usual awkward demeanor immediately taking over again following the proclamation.

Douglas, possibly in the most undignified thing he's ever done, crawls up the bed to Martin and pushes him back against the pillows. "Perfect," he says, "then I suggest we get these clothes off of you." If there's one thing Douglas revels in, it's foreplay, especially with someone as sensitive as Martin. The blood drinking can wait until he's gotten Martin into a perfect, sweaty mess.

"You too," Martin says as Douglas helps Martin pull his shirt over his head.

Douglas nods and rubs his hands down Martin's sides before he goes for his own shirt. Successfully tearing that off, he moves down the bed to assist Martin as he shimmies his trousers and pants down, kicking them off the side. Even after their interrupting discussion, Martin's arousal is still evident, making Douglas smile.

Once they're both naked, Douglas leans down, placing his full weight on top of the human and reveling in the small gasps that come from him as they kiss and slide together, Douglas briefly using a spit-slicked hand to make them both more comfortable.

After long minutes of heated kissing, Douglas scoots down and wastes no time in sucking hard on Martin's right nipple. Martin keens and as he does, Douglas uses his nail to nick the skin in various places on his chest and just below his throat. He allows the blood to coagulate at the top of the small wounds as he moves on to the other nipple.

Continuously sliding down, Douglas nips at Martin's sides. He takes a small sip of blood from each before closing them with a swipe of his tongue. He reaches Martin's hardened cock and ignores it for the time being, instead licking and biting at his hips and thighs before sliding back up and kissing Martin once more.

He bends his head and licks up the puddles of blood that he'd left earlier, smiling as Martin's stuttered breathing turns into gasps when Douglas tilts his head and bites into his side. Martin squirms and Douglas moans as a small splash of hot blood hits his tongue again.

Finally, he closes that bite and moves up. He descends quickly onto Martin's neck, groaning when the man shouts and bucks up into him. Douglas slides over so that their full erections are near perfectly lined up, and he realizes very quickly that this won't last long at all.

He sucks once, hard; sure that he's left a bruise as Martin shouts again at the intensity. He grinds down while Martin grinds up and before long, they're rutting together as Douglas continues to feed. Martin's breaths become more frantic and Douglas moans as much at the noise the man is making as the blood he's drinking. He licks and sucks at the bite wound; he made sure to make it small, but that doesn't stop him from downing every tiny bit of blood that hits his lips.

Eventually their pace becomes more erratic, their tempo lost and their thrusts nothing more than purely animalistic movement, the slick sound of which is drowned out only by their rapid breathing. They're both so close and Douglas knows that soon he needs to stop feeding before Martin loses too much blood. It's only when Martin lowers a shaking arm, taking them both in hand that he realizes exactly how little time is left.

Martin slicks his hand on their shared pre-come and pumps them together, trying hard to stay in time with at least one of their thrusts. Douglas slows his drinking for one final hard suck a moment later and leaves Martin shouting his name and shaking as his orgasm overpowers him. His hand stops moving, his head flying back. It's a sight lovely enough that Douglas pulls away from his neck just to watch it.

He thrusts once, twice, three times more, trapping his achingly hard cock in between their bellies until he too is seeing white and coming hard. It's the most intense orgasm he's experienced in decades and it leaves him breathless, panting as he lowers himself down to Martin's level.

He opens his eyes to Martin's half-lidded, sated stare. He's smiling lazily and he looks utterly debauched, a sight that sends several strong emotions through Douglas, the intensity of which makes him worry briefly about just how wholly infatuated he's become in such a short period of time. Martin reaches up and swipes his thumb across Douglas's bottom lip, holding it up for Douglas to see the excess blood.

Douglas leans forward languidly, pulling Martin's thumb into his mouth and cleaning it free of his blood as the man looks on with a faint smile. Next, he turns his head inward, licking at the final bite mark on Martin's shoulder, erasing any trace of its existence.

"I imagine you're exhausted," Douglas whispers. He watches as Martin's eyes continue to fall closed until he forcefully opens them again.

"Chilly," he responds, though even if he hadn't said it, his minute tremors would have alerted Douglas to the fact.

"Perhaps that wasn't a good idea. The first feeding is always the toughest on you humans," he says as he lifts himself up, pulling the soiled duvet back and cleaning them up with it before tossing it towards the end of the bed.

"I think it was an excellent idea," Martin replies around a yawn.

Douglas smirks. "Logic dictates that I disagree, but I'm afraid that for once in my life I can't adhere. Not when I feel this perfectly content," he says as he finally manages to pull the other covers out from under Martin's limp body. He climbs under and throws them over their bare bodies. "There's an en suit bathroom for whenever you wake up just through that door." He points to a door to their right, one that Martin hadn't noticed at all as he walked in.

Martin snuggles closer, encasing himself in the fort of blankets and in Douglas's embrace. "Still not gonna sleep?"

Douglas shrugs. "I can if I want but it's not necessary. Feeding is what gives me energy and that was enough to last me quite awhile."

Martin smiles against Douglas's chest before he kisses it once as he falls to sleep. Douglas, despite originally planning to take leave of the room after a few minutes, lays there with him all the way up until he wakes up late that evening.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long and I'm sorry :(. Life just got so overwhelming with AP tests and finals and just. Yeah. However, high school graduation is Friday and from there, I'm mostly free for summer! I plan to get the last chapter transferred over pretty quick and then I'll begin updates once more. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and still keeping up with this fic! Have some (hopefully alright) smut as an apology...

Martin smiles as he turns off the taps to the shower, shaking his head as he looks at the large -  _ostentatious_  - appliance. It's over-the-top - ridiculous, just like his entire current situation. As far as the end of the world goes, it's probably the best case scenario Martin could have ever imagined. 

He's still marveling at the shower in the en suite bathroom when he hears the door to the bedroom open.

"Finally," Martin mutters, throwing on his shirt and shaking his wet hair, grimacing as some of the water annoyingly misses his collar and drips down his back. "I'm starving."

Martin pushes the door open, shivering at the temperature difference between the steam filled room he's just exited and the bedroom beyond. Instead of finding Douglas in the room with a tray of his fantastic cooking, however, he sees Stefan, one eyebrow raised as the vampire enters the room. Martin freezes, watching as he walks further into the room. The vampire turns his gaze slowly away from the neatly made, newly-sheeted bed to him, expression unchanging as he takes him in.

Martin can't tear his eyes from his feet, yet he can feel Stefan's stare travel from his freshly-clothed body to his recently washed hair and stay there. He refuses to match that stare, which is why the vampire is able to take him by surprise and crowd him against the wall, one arm next to Martin's face, the other hand sitting atop Martin's head. The fingers on his hand twitch, communicating to Martin that the vampire is only mere seconds away from grabbing his hair in a punishing hold.

Stefan turns Martin's head with a peculiar and sickening kind of gentleness before he sniffs both his hair and neck. "Do you give a chicken new clothes?" His breath is hot against Martin's neck where only hours ago Douglas was biting into him.

Martin blinks, his concentration diverted from keeping his mind at ease with a potential predator within his personal space to wondering what the hell Stefan is going on about. "Er...no?"

"How about a cow? Would you allow it to take a shower?"

Martin closes his eyes in vague understanding. "No," he whispers.

Stefan moves his hand from his hair, trailing it down to grab his chin in the same tight hold he had days ago. "Douglas will get bored with you, I'm sure. As soon as he does he'll start to treat you like the piece of human meat - the  _blood bank_  - you are. Savor this while you can, human. Soon Douglas and this whole bloody town will realize just what you creatures are to us; how you compare to us."

He shoves Martin's head back against the wall, leaning in close. "You are food and nothing more," he hisses. "We are your evolutionary successors and it's high time you all started to realize that."

He pushes Martin's head back once more, smirking at the small cracking sound it makes when it hits the wall. "I warned you," he says, returning to his calm and condescending demeanor as he steps away and straightens his suit jacket. "I told you not to get too close. I told you to stay away from Douglas. Yet now you two have gone and…" he pauses, taking in a large breath. "Well." He stares pointedly at the bed and Martin barely reigns in a blush as he wonders how in the world Stefan could have figured that out.

"You only have yourself to blame should things get at all...unpleasant."

He tilts his head towards the door then and his smile grows infinitely more predatory. Stefan walks away from Martin and throws open the door just in time to meet Douglas.

Martin doesn't watch the encounter; he works, instead, on keeping himself from falling down as his legs shake violently beneath him. He closes his eyes and breathes. This is more than simply being afraid of other vampires: Stefan is dangerous on his own, probably even more-so than the monster that attacked his father. This particular man is incredibly intelligent: strategic, even.

There is no doubt in Martin's mind that Stefan has a plan of some sort prepared behind all these threats, but his mind - currently draining itself of panic-fueled adrenaline - won't let him elaborate past that.

He hears Stefan mutter something about humans and how pathetic they are, he hears Douglas reply scathingly, he hears the door shut, he hears a tray being harshly set down and quick footsteps.

He flinches a bit when strong hands grab his chin but manages to relax himself when he opens his eyes to Douglas's searching gaze. Douglas doesn't say anything at first, just supports him as he walks. It's only after they've sat on the bed, Martin's head tilted back against his shoulder that Douglas speaks. "What did he say?"

Martin shrugs. He doesn't want to make Douglas feel guilty or anything of the sort because of the relationship that _he_ consented to, knowing full well the possible dangers that accompany it. He sits silently for a moment, simply breathing as his body calms itself.

"He's very full of himself," he says eventually, hoping the light-hearted comment will clear the air of the gloom that's clogged it during the quiet interim.

Douglas, despite his agitated feelings, laughs. "Yes he is. Some say we're not so different in that respect."

"Oh you're full of yourself for sure," Martin replies with a small smile. "But you both display it in vastly different ways."

They sit in a lighter silence as Douglas absently runs his hand through Martin's hair. Both men start to relax, and the room begins to feel brighter with their shared return to the comfortable intimacy they had before Stefan's arrival. Eventually, Douglas stands and brings the tray over to Martin.

"Alright to eat?"

Martin rolls his eyes, smirking. "I'm very rarely not 'alright to eat'."

Douglas smiles in response. "I can't suck that much of your blood again for a bit," Douglas explains as he climbs back behind Martin. "I very nearly reached your limit this morning."

"My limit?" Martin asks between bites.

Douglas waves his hand. "You learn a few things over the years as a vampire, one of which is what the blood loss limit is for an adult male of your size before he passes out. Now, as I was saying: tomorrow we'll keep to small feedings while your body works to refill itself using the serum within my saliva that I invoked during the last feeding. I assume you've been told about that?"

Martin hums a confirmation around his mouthful of food.

"Good," Douglas continues. "We can do whatever we please on the third day and on the fourth day, if I'm still hungry and you're not completely exhausted, we can go back to small feedings once again. Will that be alright?"

Martin nods, still devouring the salmon Douglas prepared for him while the vampire looks on with an amused smile. When the fish is nothing but bones and Martin dives into the mashed potatoes, Douglas leans forward and licks a stripe from the top of Martin's spine all the way up to his hairline.

Martin's gasp is drowned out by the sound of the fork hitting the tray. He huffs. "Trying to eat here, Douglas."

Douglas hums. "Then continue."

Martin grunts when Douglas leans around and licks at the shell of his ear but stubbornly refuses to stop eating. Douglas doesn't relent, instead twisting forward, mouthing his way along Martin's jaw. He dips his head down, sucking on Martin's neck. When the man still refuses to budge (and the majority of his food is gone, Douglas notes with both pride and amusement) Douglas nips at his collarbone, drawing a little blood into his mouth.

"Unfair," Martin says, voice unsteady as he sets his fork down.

Douglas smiles against his throat. He picks up the tray and moves it to the bedside table before he flips himself around and on top of Martin. The human stares at him with one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Better be worth not finishing my meal for," he says, voice already tinged deeper with arousal.

Douglas smirks and leans down, pressing his lips hard to Martin's. The kiss is immediately heated as Douglas pushes past Martin's lips to lick along his teeth. He continually thrusts his tongue deep, licking all around Martin's mouth on his way back to the fore. When Martin's breath turns labored, Douglas removes his mouth and places it instead on the man's jaw.

He sucks and licks at his jaw while Martin holds his head in place, making soft, breathy sounds. Douglas takes his time in removing both their clothes, sucking bruises all over Martin's throat and shoulders while he does so. As the final articles of clothing are removed piece by piece, Douglas slows his ministrations, taking time to appreciate Martin's body. His eyes rove over the human for so long that Martin's face starts to turn red, and he looks away, smiling with faint embarrassment.

"You cannot be that fascinated," Martin murmurs.

"On the contrary, I am  _very_  fascinated. You look fantastic."

Martin's face turns an even deeper shade of red and he grins, gasping when Douglas returns to his previous actions. He's just licking at the hollow point where Martin's collarbones meet when his shoulders are gripped tightly and he's flipped onto his back.

Martin grins down at him before crawling backwards and immediately licking along Douglas's erect cock from the base to the head, eliciting a surprised shout from the vampire. Douglas grabs at Martin's hair but keeps the hold loose, not daring to direct the man as Martin takes his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue on the head before slowly dropping himself down as far as he can go. The languid speed pulls a moan from Douglas and Martin smirks as he continues the up and down motion.

The soft, slick noises of Martin's actions are drowned out by both their groans as Martin gradually speeds up his pace, arousal only intensifying as a result of Douglas's increasingly disheveled state. Above him, Douglas's eyes are closed, shut tight against the near-constant feeling of intense pleasure flowing through him.

Douglas is so close, a litany of Martin's name and incoherent moans falling from his lips as he tries to prevent himself from rocking his hips and pushing himself deeper into Martin's throat. When he feels as if he can't take anymore and readies himself to warn Martin, the man stops suddenly, his mouth completely removing itself from his cock. Douglas lifts his head and opens his eyes to find Martin looking up at him expectantly. As soon as Douglas meets his eyes, Martin leans in and licks all the way up Douglas's shaft before taking the head in his mouth and sucking hard.

Douglas shouts again, surprised as much at himself as at Martin's skill. Martin sucks once more - hollowing out his cheeks with the effort. Douglas nudges Martin's head out of the way as he mutters "close", and Martin pushes himself aside, using a spit-slicked hand to pump him to completion.

Douglas's eyes crash shut and he shakes as the second powerful orgasm in the single day hits him bodily. His body feels weightless, and his brain goes almost completely offline. The only thought that remains is one of surprise - astonishment at how Martin, a human he never would have even looked twice at before the world fell to pieces, has managed to both undo him and take hold of him so completely.

He comes back to himself slowly, opening his eyes to Martin smiling down at him.

"You, vampire, made a horrid mess." He continues smiling, wiping his hand on part of the duvet behind him.

"Now now, I can't take all the credit," Douglas replies, voice - he notes - not quite up to its usual caliber. "It's not usual, humans taking me by surprise."

Martin grins at him, bringing his hand up to brush a bit of Douglas's hair back from his forehead.

Douglas smirks. "Though you are quite right," he says, staring pointedly at a bit of Martin's wrist that he managed to miss cleaning up.

A slow smile spreads across Martin's face, eyes lighting with their previous mischief. "And even while being over a century old...not bad." He catches Douglas's eyes, licking the remainder of Douglas's come from his arm as the vampire watches. Douglas's eyes narrow and he surges forward, gripping Martin and throwing him against the pillows.

He licks his hand and lowers it to Martin's already slick cock. Douglas kisses him at a slow tempo while his hand pumps at a steady counter-rhythm. Soon, Martin's kisses break off, becoming stuttered as he gets closer and closer. Douglas tilts his head down, sucking Martin's lip into his mouth and nipping at the sensitive skin, drinking the few drops of blood that hit his tongue.

That one action throws Martin over the edge and he makes a sound of pure pleasure as he comes all over Douglas's hand and his own belly. Douglas breaks off to watch Martin's face contorted in the throws of orgasm while his whole body shakes. Gradually, he relaxes, and his sweaty body settles heavily against the mattress.

Douglas grabs the napkins from Martin's food tray and wipes up the mess. He looks back at Martin, leaning down to lap up the excess blood on his lip.

"We need to work on your stamina," he says with a smirk. "You always seem to be half-asleep after sex."

Martin slaps his shoulder weakly. "If you could control your bloody feeding," he jokes.

"It's not my fault your blood is so delicious, or that your reactions to my feeding are so lovely."

Martin blushes furiously and looks away while Douglas kisses the side of his mouth. Martin glances back at him, running his hand down his chest and shoving him over until they're laying side by side.

"Stefan knew," Martin whispers as he pushes into Douglas's side.

Douglas's hand in his hair stops at the name but he continues after a few moments. "These walls are built to be sound proof, even against other vampires. He probably threw out a lucky guess and based the reality of his statement on your reaction."

"What would happen, though? If someone found out?"

He seems nervous and Douglas works quickly to reassure him. "Nothing, truly. From this point on, there's either remain how we are, or enter into a bond. While the others would be surprised if we did, given my personality, no one would care. Well, save for Stefan and his cronies."

Martin is quiet against him.

"You know, I find it prudent to talk about that, though perhaps when you're not quite so tired."

"No," Martin says. "I'm fine to talk about it now."

Douglas chuckles and leans his face against Martin's head. "Where humans feel the need to date a potential partner, vampires are far different. When we," he coughs, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous about picking the right words. "When we become infatuated with a human, they're immediately bond potential. For someone such as myself, I see no problem in bonding within hours of meeting - for convenience or otherwise - whereas someone like you..."

"Might be a little skeptical," Martin finishes.

Douglas purses his lips and nods. "I understand why you wouldn't want to. I don't expect you to-"

"What? No." Martin sits up on his elbow. "No, it's not that I don't want to. I mean...you're...amazing. And I- um, I really like you. Obviously. It's just..." he sighs. "Carolyn told me about Victor."

"Ah."

"It's dangerous, I know. And honestly, I don't care about that; I lived and breathed danger for months. But sharing that danger with someone. That scares me."

"Martin, it's fine. It's not a dire decision."

"But it is," he falls back to the mattress. "Ok, not  _dire_  but it's important."

Douglas glances at him and smiles. "Oh I see."

Martin looks away.

"You're jealous."

"I am not jealous," he snipes. "You've been sucking someone's blood weekly for a year and then whoever else before everything went to hell. I don't care about that. Well...Ok I do care about that a little.

"I have no idea how I feel about this, really. I hear the word bond and I get a little weirded out, yet I think of a bond with  _you_  and I just...I get excited. I think about the potential consequences of having a bond and it scares me but then I think about being yours and only yours and making sure everyone knows it and it makes me happy."

He finishes in a rush, looking embarrassed at the proclamation. Douglas smiles as he pulls him closer.

"You're tired; so sleep on it. If it's that important to you, then you can make your decision in the next couple of days before you leave. Alright?"

Martin pushes closer, sighing as he relaxes. "Alright."

 

* * *

 

It's a strange thing, Martin thinks, as he lies in bed the next afternoon. After so many months on the run, the last thing he expected to be doing was relaxing in the most comfortable bed of his life, thinking about his relationship and waiting for a vampire to come back and feed on him. Martin smiles. Yet here he is, staring leisurely at the ceiling until the vampire he's quickly beginning to love wholeheartedly returns.

When Douglas comes storming in minutes later, however, he's obviously severely angry. Immediately, Martin's content mood is completely wiped away, overlapped with concern. Douglas paces around the room, grumbling and clenching his hands into fists, ignoring Martin's curious stare the whole time. Martin slides off of the bed and intercepts his path, gripping his wrists as he tries to move away. Until Douglas decides to speak, he simply stares, eyebrows raised.

Douglas sighs and the movement drains the tension from his body. He stares back at Martin, lips pursed.

"It would seem Stefan has had a chat with Durai and Giselle," he grumbles, refusing to make eye contact with Martin.

"And?"

"They've determined that my finding you in such a short time does not, in fact, constitute enough work done for the coven. Because it only took me two weeks and because you ended up being so important to me, they believe that I should be sent out again on a 'venture outside the walls that is in no way self-serving'." He finishes the last bit with air quotations and a look of such scathing condemnation that Martin nearly flinches.

"That doesn't seem...right," Martin replies, leading them both to sit down.

"It's not," Douglas growls. "I'm supposed to go out with Clayton and Irina - one of Stefan's 'supporters' and one of my own." Douglas runs his hands through his hair. "It's a hunting party, of all things."

Martin rubs his hands up and down Douglas's back. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not sure," he sighs, relaxing at Martin's touch. "Could be days, could be weeks; the party itself decides when it has killed enough zombies."

Silently, Martin continues to rub his back. He feels a bit sick at the thought of Douglas being not only gone for so long, but gone outside of the walls. He shakes his head. "You'll be fine," he says and, before Douglas can open his mouth to protest, " _we_  will be fine."

"I'm worried about Stefan; he may try to pull something while I'm gone."

"And Carolyn will be the first to know. Besides," he says, shifting so that he's facing Douglas. "Isn't it kind of poor vampire etiquette to torment the bondmate of someone in the coven?"

It takes a moment to register, and when it does, Douglas's eyes go wide. "What?" he splutters.

Martin smirks at the uncharacteristic look of surprise and confusion on Douglas's face. "I've decided that I want to bond with you," he explains. "I thought about it all throughout the morning and I realized that there's really nothing I'd like more than to be with you unconditionally."

"I- Martin. I..."

"But," Martin continues. "I want to leave this final choice, at least, up to you."

"What choice?"

"I heard about what happened to Chryslin and Victor. With you going beyond the walls so soon, I recognize that there is a possibility, no matter how small, of that happening to us. So you decide: we can bond today," he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. "Or we can wait until after you've come back."

Douglas watches him, surprised - for the first time in his long life - into silence. "You really have thought about this, haven't you?" he whispers.

Martin leans back. "Of course I have; this is likely one of - if not  _the_  - most important decisions I'll have to make from here on out. I want to get everything right for the both of us."

Douglas considers, still staring at the one human that he's ever cared about as a vampire, the one human that has ever managed to surprise him, the one human whom he couldn't bear to lose - especially if it was his fault in one way or another.

"We'll wait," he says eventually. "There's always the distinct possibility that Clayton will try to kill me while we're out," he jokes.

Martin looks frightened for a moment before he rolls his eyes. "Not funny, vampire."

"Oh?" Douglas smirks and grabs Martin. He tips him back until they're both lying down. "In that case, I suppose I'll have to do something else to entertain you." He dives in, kissing Martin's neck.

Martin giggles, squirming against Douglas's body pressed heavily atop his own. "That'll be just fine."


	10. Chapter 10

"You leave those clothes here," Douglas says as Martin re-organizes his pack on the fifth morning, mouth twitching upwards at the man's look of intense concentration. Everything in the man's pack is folded tightly and organized meticulously for ease of access. Douglas is surprised, really, that those instincts have returned to the human so quickly after departing the chaos of the world beyond the walls.

Martin looks down at his outfit. "Oh. Right. I forgot these aren't actually mine."

Douglas smirks. "Well you've hardly had much use for them; it's not surprising."

Martin throws his shirt at him. "Oh as if you weren't in the exact same state."

"True," Douglas concedes, picking up and folding Martin's clothes as he drops them. He watches Martin, face growing serious as the man finishes changing. "I leave later today."

Martin freezes, turning slowly. "So soon?"

Douglas nods, moving forward to button the top of Martin's shirt. He runs his hand over the rough wool, trailing his fingers across Martin's shoulder and leaving his hand resting lightly against the man's upper arm. He raises his eyes back to lock with Martin's. "Before I go, though, I want to inform Durai about our decision."

Martin brings his hand up, taking Douglas's from his arm and gripping it in a loose hold. "What will that do?"

"It'll mean he has the right to act as a mediator should Stefan try to do anything untoward. He'll have a reason to keep him away from you, rather than let things play out without potential for conflict."

"He does that often? The, er, letting things happen bit?"

"It depends," Douglas says, running his free hand through his hair. "Though Giselle and I are the only ones aware, the fact still remains: Durai hates leading. He's terrified of making decisions. When it comes right down to it, though, his decisions are usually the right ones. When he pushes away his anxiety, not only is he the most powerful of all of us, but also the most level-headed. What he has trouble doing, however, is intervening in personal coven affairs. It's nice for the most part, but can sometimes prove problematic."

"Alright," Martin agrees, stepping back and slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Telling him makes sense then." His eyes dart to the door and he shoots a small smile at Douglas. "Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?"

"But of course," Douglas says, stepping forward into Martin's personal space once more and holding his head in place. The kiss is languid yet passionate at the same time - time passing quickly and far too easily as it continues. Douglas's hands find their way up the back of Martin's shirt while Martin's own hold Douglas's neck and hair. Neither of them want to let go, but eventually, Martin is the first to step back.

"Kill a lot of those monsters, and then come back quickly."

Douglas chuckles. "How romantic."

He takes Martin's arm and leads him from the room. As they walk down the stairs, they pass by Lydia and Stefan, throwing Douglas from his contented mood into a tense one. Douglas glares, but Martin stares pointedly at his feet as they descend. He completely misses, then, the slow smile on Stefan's face that incites a protective growl from Douglas. What he doesn't miss is the whispered "all alone now, human?" as they pass.

Douglas's grip on Martin's arm tightens to a near-painful intensity. He utters a curse and Martin pats his hand, hoping to restore some calm in the vampire. The poorly veiled threat, strangely enough, doesn't seem to be affecting him. Likely because he can see exactly what it is: bait. The last thing they need is for Douglas to take it and go after him.

When they reach the doors, the chilled morning air slaps against Martin's face as the wind rustles his hair. He closes his eyes, enjoying the breeze after so long inside.

"Bastard," Douglas mutters as the large double doors shut behind them.

"He's just trying to get a rise from you; he's too much of a coward to try to start anything on his own. If something big happens, he wants the blame to be on you."

Douglas sighs and removes his hand from Martin's arm. "You're right." He licks his lips, several deep breaths whistling through his nose as he calms himself. "That was actually surprisingly intuitive."

"I have my moments," Martin replies, nudging into Douglas. "Just promise me you won't ever go after him, no matter what he does. As soon as you fight him, he wins. Not only that, but the last thing we need are our protectors battling with each other. At least wait until the apocalypse is over before you start a civil war."

Douglas chuckles, relaxing fully. "I can do that, so long as petty words continue to be the extent of his repertoire." He pauses, glancing at Martin. "You have the singular ability to calm me - it's unexpected."

Martin smiles at the praise. From the center of the town, the bell tolls and Martin watches the makeshift tower as the bell within swings lightly back and forth. "You won't go hungry?"

"Shouldn't. The three of us can withstand weeks - sometimes even months - without feeding; it's inconvenient but possible, if necessary. If we're desperate, there are always forest animals hidden somewhere, though they're hardly as satisfying."

"Well. Come back quickly and then you can feed on me as much as you want."

Douglas smirks at him and quickly kisses his neck as he opens the door to unit 107. "I'd like that very much."

Martin grins and laughs to himself. "Never thought I'd say something like that," he muses as he steps inside. He turns to close the door but stops suddenly, leaning forward and kissing Douglas once more. "Be careful."

"And you as well."

 

* * *

 

Martin decides to have lunch with the rest of the community that day and almost immediately regrets the decision when he enters the cafeteria. God, he feels like he's back in secondary where every table was gossipping non-stop about some poor soul. The "poor soul", in this case, being him.

He heralds at least a dozen questions about why Douglas switched for him, and then another few about how he liked his first time. He chooses to try to avoid the latter. Even when he's not answering questions, he swears he can feel people staring at him from every direction within the large room.

He seats himself towards the back of the room. It's not exactly a corner, but it's close enough as it's about the only empty area within the building. He feels secure here in this space - entirely alone but comfortable. Comfortable, that is, until Carl barges in.

He drops his silverware in surprise when the man very nearly throws his own chair across the room in his excitement to sit down. He stares at Martin in silence with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"I know I'm going to regret this," Martin starts. "But what is it?"

He continues to grin, takes a breath, grins again. "I knew you had an interesting relationship."

Martin sighs again. "Yes, you've mentioned that."

"But a  _bond_ ," he continues, causing Martin to choke. "Now I can honestly say I've seen it all."

Martin stares at him blankly. "How in the world..."

"Bookkeeper, remember? I work closely with Durai and Carolyn and just happened to overhear a discussion between them and Douglas before he left."

"So you eavesdropped."

"Eavesdropping, overhearing, whatever. The point is that this is exciting news."

"Well keep it down, will you? We're waiting until Douglas gets back, or did you not hear that?"

"Oh I figured."

They're silent, then, as they both continue to eat, Carl finally having gotten his discovery out in the open and his body losing its giddy energy as a result.

"So," Martin starts. "What, um, what were they saying, exactly?"

"Oh the usual stuff," Carl says around a mouthful of salad. "Douglas is worried about Stefan; Durai and Carolyn have promised to keep an eye on him but unless he goes against the town rules, there's nothing they can do to keep him away from you."

"Do you think he'll do anything big?"

Carl shrugs. "He's been looking to start something for awhile but he's always been too apprehensive; he hates the culture of this town but likes the structure, and where he stands within it. Perhaps you'll be the catalyst." He pauses, tilting his head. "That can't be a fun thought."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the sterling reassurance."

"That's what I'm here for," Carl replies, smiling brightly. He sobers a bit and watches Martin. "Don't take any shit, though, ok? Durai and Giselle will handle him if he tries absolutely anything, no matter how small."

"Jeez. With the way you all talk to me, it sounds like I was safer beyond the walls."

Carl laughs at that. "Just trying to watch out for you. Life in a community allows for more luxury - more personal comfort - than beyond the walls. Sometimes it's hard for stubborn people like you to understand that." He leans over the table and knocks on Martin's head with his fist.

"I'm not gonna act the martyr, despite what you all seem to think," Martin grumbles, pushing away from Carl's insistent hand.

"Not intentionally," Carl says. "But you seem like the kind of guy who gets into a lot of bad luck really easily and really quickly and then it all just spirals out of control until you're not sure what to do with it." He shrugs. "You know. Kind of like when you - being a pilot and all - are flying and you get caught up in a bit of turbulence but then it turns out to be a full blown tornado..."

Martin smiles. "Alright, alright. I get it. Thank you for the concern."

"What're friends for?" Carl says, smiling back at him. "Now eat up. You're supposed to go back to work tomorrow."

Martin rolls his eyes and continues to eat, though he can't help but smile at all the concern directed his way. It's overwhelming but nice - he feels truly and wholly cared for, and, he realizes, it's a feeling he missed quite a bit.

 

* * *

 

"Rookie," Natasha shouts as he walks up to what used to be unit 76. The cool morning breeze carries her voice over to him, making it louder, even, than the murmur of voices behind her. A jolt of energy goes through him at the sight of his colleagues - while staying with Douglas had been wonderful, he realizes now that he missed the monotony and camaraderie his job is able to provide.

Natasha gives him a small smile as he approaches, removing the ever-unlit cigarette from her mouth. "Good to have you back. I see you survived."

"Barely," Martin jokes with a smile. "What's going on?"

Natasha looks at the gathering crowd of repairmen and women before she looks back at him. "An announcement; though everyone else has probably figured out what it's about. We've got to travel outside in two weeks. I'm looking for volunteers."

"How many?"

Natasha eyes the crowd. "I'll announce all that once everyone gets here. Usually it's a struggle to find enough so what we're doing and how many people we need will depend on how many people are willing to go." Behind her, the crowd begins to grow louder as more and more people show up with their speculations regarding the content of this latest unscheduled briefing. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the crowd, clapping her hands.

"Oi! Listen up!"

The crowd immediately goes silent, most avoiding eye contact with Natasha as she looks around. The sight reminds Martin of being in school, sitting in a classroom with a stern teacher while not knowing the answer to a supposedly obvious question. Just like in the classroom, no one here wants to be singled out.

"You probably all know why we're here - it's time to go back outside. Apparently there's some breakage on the walls from a few zombies that the vamps took care of a couple days ago," she says, still looking at each and every member of the gathering, trying to forcefully make eye contact.

"According to a scouting mission by Sila and Andrei, there aren't anymore within the area. An excellent turn of events, as it happens, since we also need supplies."

A low groan erupts from the crowd. Natasha claps her hands again, immediately stopping the noise.

"You all know as well as I do that the supply teams are not only short staffed, but are also more focused on getting food. We, therefore, are short on wood. Well. We will be, after we're done repairing the wall.

"Now, unless I get enough volunteers, we're only going to focus on building up the wall. That will leave us at a standstill, dependent on the supply teams to grab meager amounts of wood alongside the food they hunt and scavenge for." She looks around, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. The look reminds Martin briefly of Carolyn and he smiles. "I want a show of hands of people willing to go out."

Martin watches as people shuffle and grumble, each looking at each other as if daring one another to go first. Martin sighs, he's understanding of not wanting to venture beyond the safety of the walls but also a little disappointed in the people not willing to do their part for the village keeping them so comfortable.

He clears his throat and raises his hand slowly, feeling his face heat up as all eyes turn to watch him. Immediately, the grumbling from the crowd slows to silence. Martin glances at Natasha and she smiles in approval at him, nodding sternly.

"Alright that's one. You can't honestly tell me that you're going to let the rookie show you up?"

There's mumbling throughout the crowd and various looks shot Martin's way: ones of both annoyance and admiration. More hands go up slowly and in the end, they have seventeen volunteers total - enough to bring back a few supplies alongside fixing the wall.

Natasha looks pleased as she counts out the hands, smirking briefly before turning serious once more. "Volunteers will receive their weapons the day we leave. We'll meet at the city center. Everyone else will continue working their usual shift with Lee as the foreman." She looks around again. "Alright. Back to work," she snaps.

As the crowd dissipates, Odi, one of the other volunteers, slaps him on the shoulder. "No one likes being the first, just gotta say thanks for that one. We don't usually get so many."

Martin shrugs, taking a few moments to process the man's thick accent. "We needed people and no one else was biting."

Odi laughs. "No one ever does. Either too scared or too comfortable within the walls. I go on every trip - it is never a problem, especially not with the vampires around."

"I figured as much," Martin says, picking up a tool to start on his assigned unit. "Although," he starts, eyeing Natasha a few units down. "I wasn't aware that there was an attack."

"We get a few every now and then. It is never a big deal. This one was surprising, though, because the zombies were moving quick enough to get to the wall. The vampires don't usually let them get so close, but I guess there were a few more than usual as well."

Martin purses his lips. "I didn't hear anything about that."

Odi tilts his head and continues working. "I did not expect you would - your vampire was Douglas, right? He hardly ever goes out for scouting. I heard Giselle handled it personally so there was not a need for him."

Nodding vacantly, Martin bites his nail. "That's not good, right? There being more than usual?"

"Coincidence," Odi says, shrugging. "What else could it be? They are not exactly strategists."

Martin chuckles nervously and drops the subject. Yet, even as he waves goodbye to Odi, he finds himself wary; he can't help but feel there's something bigger going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow we're all caught up with the ff account now! That's awesome! That means it's time for an update to both soon :D.
> 
> Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who commented here or sent me an ask on my tumblr. My graduation went great and I'm pretty much all done with parties now. I'm officially into Summer mode and ready to rock. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for sticking with this story. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to share them either here or at my writing tumblr: princesscocoa.tumblr.com. Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

Two weeks pass by quickly and soon, Martin finds himself standing at the front gate, being handed a 12 gauge shotgun by one of the girls who works in the armory. During the months he spent alone, Martin grew a begrudging appreciation for guns. As such, he immediately recognizes the one in his hand as one of the newest Remington models - though it’s merely pump action, it’s still one of the best guns he could be carrying.

He does as thorough a check as he can without completely dismantling it and nods at the girl, satisfied with his weapon. From behind, Odi nudges him and Martin throws on his pack, quickly joining the gathering around Natasha.

“Our vamp escort today is Nadir.” She points to the tan-skinned vampire. Martin had noticed him a few days prior speaking to Stefan while wandering through the city. Like Durai, Nadir wears the traditional clothes of his own Islamic culture but with a darker, more durable look that Martin has dubbed “vampire-proofing”.

Nadir nods, looking coolly into the crowd.

“The wall damage is on the east end about a fourth of the way around and to the right of the entrance. Seven people will work on the wall, the other ten will follow me and get supplies. Nadir here will be about midway between the two groups. Odi is in charge of the wall team. He will have a flare gun and I, myself, will have another. Red flares signal danger - if one is launched, make your way immediately to the gate. Is that clear?”

The small crowd shouts the affirmative and shuffles around as Natasha lists off the people joining her in the forest, eventually giving the signal to open the gate. The volunteers are obviously determined to get done as quickly as possible; as soon as the doors open, each person immediately follows a quick pace, rushing to the east end of the wall and splitting into their groups from there.  

Despite working with these people for so long, Martin is still surprised at how efficient they are - it takes almost no time at all for the ten people following Natasha to end up deep into the forest. Martin barely notices at first, but by the time he realizes just how far from the city they are, he finds himself far more leery than he was only moments before. When they finally come to a halt, the trees are all around them, blocking out any view of the city. Taking a deep breath to try to calm himself as much as possible, Martin slings his shotgun over his shoulder, readying himself to cut down trees.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Natasha warns to the whole group before they split up. “Only carry what you can or else you’ll be completely useless.”

Martin takes the warning to heart and scouts out the best quality wood that he can find while also being relatively small. About an hour and a half later, Martin is searching for Natasha with a full pack on his back. He smiles when he reaches her, completely unsurprised to find a nearly-full pack by her feet as she works on chopping another huge tree.

“Need some help there?”

Natasha turns, wiping sweat from her brow. She eyes him warily. “You’re done already?”

Martin shrugs his pack off and shows it to her. “Can’t fit much more in here.”

Natasha grunts and returns to her work. “Makes sense - you got a smaller pack since you got a weapon.” She steps back and looks up at the tree. “If you’re up to it, you can join me. I think I’m going to collect everyone here when this is done and head back, anyway. The wall team should be about half-way through their work at this point. Tomorrow we’ll come back out and finish.”

Martin nods and unsheathes his axe, swinging as she resets. They’re working in silence punctuated only by the sharp blows of their axes when they hear it: a grunt bordering on a growl from only a few feet away. Immediately, Natasha drops her axe and pulls Martin behind an overgrown section of bushes.

She signals for him to be quiet, as if he wasn’t already. She surveys the area as much as she can without moving.

“You heard that, didn’t you?” she whispers, voice barely audible.

Martin nods and looks around the area ahead of them. “I think-” he cuts himself off when the creature comes into view, pushing harshly through the trees.

“Shit,” Natasha whispers, watching the Reaper walk around with its nose in the air. The thing looks around the area they’d just left, circling the half-chopped tree. They’re lucky they're in an area so dense with trees and foliage - it’s obvious the thing didn’t see them before they hid and can only barely smell them.

A rather useless reassurance, Martin thinks, as they stare at it in silence. Martin slowly removes the weapon from his shoulder. He knows it won’t do much, though perhaps it will slow it down if they have to make a break for it.

They both jump when Nadir appears suddenly between them. He signals for them to be quiet with a finger pressed firmly to his lips before placing both of his hands on each of their shoulders. Carefully, he backs them up, trying to stay as silent as possible as they put some distance between the creature and themselves. If they can get far enough away, they’ll be safe to sprint back to the city. Martin’s hands tremble as he holds onto his weapon, moving as quickly as possible under the circumstances.

Suddenly, a harsh scream fills the air as Kenneth runs into the clearing, trailing another Reaper behind him. He runs face first into the Reaper they have their eyes on. The creature actually looks surprised, staring at Kenneth for a moment before its expression turns predatory and it pounces.

“Damn,” Nadir curses. “Run. Get away and launch the flare.” He jumps away from them, tackling one of the feeding Reapers.

Martin and Natasha waste no time in following his orders. They sprint in the opposite direction, Natasha pulling her flare gun free and firing it as they escape. From behind them they hear a loud roar and the distinct sound of a chase. Natasha spares a glance backwards.

“It’s gaining and fast. We can’t outrun this,” she shouts.

Martin looks quickly at it, finding it to be only a few yards behind now. “Right,” he says. He breathes out once before pursing his lips and nodding. “Keep running.”

“Wait! Martin!”

He ignores her and spins around, immediately firing a shot at the creature behind them. He pumps the forearm as he continues to jog backwards, shooting the thing again. This time, it slows just the tiniest bit. He takes the chance to cock the gun once more and fire directly into the monster’s face. The Reaper howls and trips.

Continuing to run backwards, Martin fires again, catching the creature on its shoulder and spraying black blood all around it. He continues to fire, continues to run. The creature gains ground, taking the chance while Martin adds more shells to start its sprint once more.

Martin only has time for one more. He shouts as he shoots, spraying a good portion of the creature’s head into the distance. It’s inertia keeps it coming forward, though, and it hits Martin hard, landing heavily on his right side and crushing him against the hard ground.

“Martin!” He hears Natasha shout from a few feet beyond.

“Keep going,” he shouts back blindly, voice strained as he tries to breathe air back into his lungs.

Another roar from just beyond the nearest treeline catches his attention. Quickly realizing that he has no chance of getting out from under the carcass of the Reaper in time, Martin lifts the shotgun with his free hand. He sets the stock on the ground and pumps the forearm. It takes way too much effort and he knows immediately that he’ll only get in one or two more shots before this newest threat is upon him.

He lifts the shotgun shakily, the weight making him unsteady. He waits until the thing is beyond the treeline and fires. He goes to cock it once more, shouting when the shotgun loses its placement and slides sideways before he can complete the action.

Without warning, the gun is grabbed from him and Natasha pumps it, points, and fires. She doesn’t move from her protective position next to Martin, however, and is only able to get one more shot in before the Reaper is within clawing distance. She stumbles back, throwing up the weapon as a shield.

A loud screech is heard as a vampire darts in between them and throws the monster backwards, tackling it to the ground. Eliza screams as she viciously tears into the Reaper’s chest cavity and spreads it open, launching its blood everywhere. She takes its heart in one hand and squeezes it into little more than dust. The Reaper shrieks and claws at her but it’s too slow. Before it can get a single hand on her, she grips its head and wrenches it from its body, crushing it beneath her booted foot. She stomps on it multiple times, completely disintegrating it.

Natasha rushes to Martin’s side, pushing the Reaper off of him and helping him up. He cringes, gripping his shoulder but nods at her when she asks him if he’s alright.

“Where is its head?” Eliza pants, breathless.

“Shot most of it off,” Martin says.

“The only way to kill a Reaper is by completely destroying its head and its heart. It’d be nice if we could burn the bodies too just in case but we don’t have the time right now.” She cuffs a hand through her brown curls. “You didn’t see where it went?”

Martin shakes his head no and looks back at the Reaper. Already, its wounds are healing. It twitches.

In the distance, they hear a cry from Nadir. Eliza looks back and forth between them and the Reaper. She stares pointedly at where Martin is gripping his arm, looking worried.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Go help Nadir, you can deal with this thing later.”

She shakes her head. “Better to kill it when it can’t fight back,” she explains. "I only killed that one so easily because I took it by surprise." She sighs. “It’s not matter to you, now. Get back to the village and quickly.”

They don’t need to be told twice. Natasha grips Martin’s uninjured arm and they sprint towards the town. The vampires on guard quickly check them over, ask for a few details, and let them in. Giselle glides past them, her black flowing hair and the sword glinting in her hand the only things Martin sees as she runs through the entrance.

The entire town is on high alert as they enter. Various town officials lead the straggling citizens to the large city center, pushing everyone inside. Natasha and Martin follow behind the crowd, walking into the large room to find Carolyn trying to make an announcement to the panicking people.

They lean against the back wall, idly listening as she works to calm the people enough to explain. From her pack, Natasha pulls a cigarette, placing it in between her lips. She pats her pockets and groans.

“What is it?” Martin asks, looking at her in worry.

“I hardly ever carry a light anymore. Do you have one?”

“Um.” Martin carefully removes his pack from his injured arm, searching through it. “Actually I think I do. Never cleared out this thing when I got it.”

“Thank God,” she says, nearly ripping the lighter from him. She hands it back almost just as quickly, taking no time at all to light the cigarette. She sighs as she takes a drag, pulling the cigarette from her mouth.

“Cigarettes are almost impossible to find anymore,” she explains, probably after seeing Martin’s confused stare. She smirks. “Seems I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t give up their addiction when the apocalypse started.” A pause. “Not to mention the fact the vampires don’t deem them a priority when supply hunting.” Her eyes close. “Means I can only light up when I really need it. Like now.”

“Ah,” Martin says, nodding in understanding.

Natasha glances at him again. “You thought I was just being pretentious, didn’t you?”

Martin can feel his face turn red. “No. I actually don’t know what I thought about it. Nothing really surprises me anymore,” he says.

“ _Sure_ ,” she replies, but her smile indicates she’s only joking. Her eyes stray back to the front of the room. “Looks like Carolyn’s finally got this useless lot back under control.”

Martin stares at her for a moment longer before turning back to watch Carolyn. “She really knows how to command a room,” he mutters, watching as she gives a bit of background into the situation.

Natasha hums her agreement, staring intently as Carolyn continues.

“Preliminary reports show eleven Reapers in the surrounding area. So far we’ve confirmed that Eliza’s dishwashing group have all returned safely and six of the eighteen members of the reconstruction team are back within the walls.

“Six,” Natasha breathes. She raises her hand, trying to get Carolyn’s attention in the quieted room. “Let’s hear the names of the six,” she shouts.

Martin still marvels at her ability to carry her voice the way she does; even in the large room, Carolyn is able to hear her clearly. Carolyn looks up at her in surprise and the corner of her mouth twitches. “Make that eight,” she says. She snaps and Carl joins her on stage with a notepad. She reads off the names and Natasha frowns.

“So no one from the forest team but us so far,” she says.

“There are currently twelve vampires in the city, luckily,” Carolyn continues. “Two will remain on guard duty at the entrance. We have a lookout on the wall who will launch a yellow flare if the Reapers make it inside of the wall.”

The mention of zombies within the walls throws the room into another panic and immediately people are talking, shouting, moving about.

Carolyn places her fingers in her mouth and whistles loud. “Shut up!” she shouts. When the chaos quiets to a dull murmur, she continues. “If we panic, we are dead. If you’re going to wallow then you can go back home and do it alone. Anyone willing to fight can stay here and weapons will be handed out.”

“Weapons won’t work,” one woman shouts frantically.

“The vampires have a hard enough time with them! What are we meant to do?” another man yells.

Martin watches the chaos with a growing sense of apprehension. The people are panicking, almost as much as those in his hometown did the day the first news of zombies circulated. It’s pathetic, really, how easily they’ve forgotten the danger they’re still in. He steps forward. “Weapons work,” Martin yells, surprising himself.

The room quiets and looks to him.

“So we fight,” he continues, still holding his arm. “Weapons work at least a little against them. I managed to get one down with only a shotgun. Even if all we can do is slow them, that’s better than nothing. It’s what we have to do until the vampires can help us.”

That little speech seems to help. Immediately the morale is back in some of the people and a line begins to form for weapons while a few other people leave with their children. Natasha pats his back and shoots him a small smile. “Nice going, Rookie,” she mutters over the sound of the crowd. He grins back at her, still surprised at himself. In the past, he was never much of a leader; yet, here, he realizes, he’s more of an expert than anyone else. That fact instills in him a sense of pride - enough to boost his confidence when needed, it seems.

“Martin.”

They both turn to find Dr. Breton walking determinedly towards them.

“I saw you holding your arm. What’s happened?”

Natasha smirks and Martin smiles. “That Reaper landed on me. I don’t think it’s a big thing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says, leading him and Natasha out of the crowded building. “Natasha, are you hurt?”

“No, just Martin.”

“Alright. We’d better do this quick, I want to be ready just in case.”

 

* * *

 

 

Martin leaves the hospital twenty minutes later with a sling and his pack of wood on his back. He sighs as he rearranges it on his shoulders, lamenting the lighter weight of the pack. The fall caused nearly half of his pack to empty, leaving his back bruised and aching in the process. He tries to stretch as he walks, eventually catching sight of Natasha. He waves at her, managing to grab her attention.

“Bad news then?” she shouts to him as she jogs over.

“Actually no. Breton said this thing,” he holds up his sling-clad arm, “is just a precaution. I strained my shoulder and bruised my back and ribs but there’s no permanent damage.”

“Good. Good.”

“Any news on survivors?”

Natasha runs a hand through her bangs and sighs. For a moment, her expression changes - she looks grey, distraught, almost sick. It’s the least confident he’s seen her yet and he finds himself unnerved. “We’ve got four confirmed dead so far,” she says, looking back at the entrance. “They were brought in with Sila by Nadir.”

Martin closes his eyes. “What does that mean? Is Sila dead?”

Natasha confirms with a nod of her head. “Nadir is pretty injured as well but those vamps can just sleep it off and heal themselves; he’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Did he say how many Reaper’s they’ve killed?”

“Sounds like, including the one you shot to shit, they’ve taken out six of them. Of course that was even before Giselle, Stefan, and Durai got out there. If we had Douglas, they’d all be dead by now.”

Martin hums. He eyes the near-full pack on her back. “With this arm, I’m useless on guard duty. I might as well do something worthwhile.” He holds his free hand out. “Where should I take these?”

Natasha hesitates before pulling the pack off of her shoulder. “Craftsmen’s booth. No one’s there, probably, but you can just drop it - they’ll know what to do with it whenever things quiet down around here.”

“Got it,” he says, setting off. He’s grateful that he has something to do instead of standing around aimlessly like some of the people around who weren’t able to get any weapons.

On his way to the booth, Carolyn stops him with a firm hand on his good arm. He turns to find her staring at him with poorly-disguised concern. “We haven’t talked in awhile.”

He looks around at the bustling town. “And you’re choosing now?” he says with a smile.

Carolyn harrumphs and crosses her arms. “Your arm’s alright, then?”

“Should be.” He holds it up and waves it back and forth for good measure, wincing when he goes a bit too far.

Carolyn rolls her eyes and looks around quickly before leaning in. “I’ve been told some interesting news from Douglas.”

“About the bond.”

“Yes.” She stares at him imploringly.

Martin shakes his head. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this _now_.” He smiles. “He gave me the choice - it’s really all ok.”

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.”

She leans back and smirks. “Well, I won’t say I told you so.”

Martin rolls his eyes and laughs. “You just did.”

Her smirk grows into a cheeky grin and she leaves him to continue on to the craftsmen’s booth. As he’s lifting his items over to the teenage apprentice on duty, he hears the sound of yelling from the front. At first, he’s afraid of what it means, yet as he listens, he realizes that what he’s hearing are cheers.

He throws a look at the wide-eyed teen behind the desk. “Would you like to go see what’s happening?”

The boy nods and follows him to the large crowd at the front gates. In the center, Durai, Giselle, and Stefan are standing, covered in zombie blood, each carrying weapons. Giselle is speaking and Martin grabs the hand of the boy and pushes through to hear.

“-found three alive, one of which is injured. The rest of the reconstruction crew’s supply team are dead. Sila is dead. Nadir, Tomas, and Carmen are each severely injured. Durai and I will discuss this unexpected and unprecedented Reaper attack. For now we ask that you do not panic and stick to your jobs and life as you have known it. So far, we are putting this down as mere coincidence.”

She looks to Durai, seeing if he has anything to add. He briefly closes his eyes and steps forward. “We thank you for your preparedness today,” he says, his monotone voice strangely soothing to the anxious crowd. “I will be discussing plans for a more organized defense effort should another attack like this happen again, though I am positive that it will not.”

With that, he steps forward and immediately the crowd parts to let the three through. Behind them, more vampires continue to return alongside the few surviving humans.

Martin turns. “Lucas, was it?”

The boy nods, still staring at the entrance. Martin isn’t sure whether or not they’ve already brought the dead in but he’d rather not have the boy watching if they haven’t.

“What do you say we head back to your booth and get started on that wood?”

Lucas looks at him and nods slowly, following him. He watches the boy as they weave their way through the crowd.

The city is certainly a blessing, but observing Lucas walk shakily makes him realize just how much of an illusion it is. No matter how safe they feel inside, there are still zombies all over the world. They’re not done fighting yet, not for a very long time.

He looks towards the east where he’s sure Douglas has gone. He fervently hopes the group is alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on guns, but I think the one I've described in here is totally imaginary. Aw well - it's a world of zombies and vampires, after all. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the return of the zombie action! Thanks for reading :)


	12. Chapter 12

Two weeks later marks a month since Douglas left, and still there’s no word from the party.

The town itself has calmed down following the Reaper “incident” weeks before; though where the vampires seem to want to brush it off, many of the humans are still wary of the dangers still present just beyond the walls. So many of the people living in the town had never even heard of Reapers, and now a few have had to go up against them. The stories are enough to make everyone even more uncomfortable of the outside world than they were before.

The whole town was put on hold only a day after the attacks in order for everyone to participate in the funerals held for those who died - something Martin never thought he’d see again. Somehow, when he’d arrived at the town, he hadn’t ever thought about what happened when people died here. Perhaps, for awhile, he imagined it would be like it was on the road: people continuing on with their lives, not planning on fully acknowledging the deaths until the world was restored, if that ever happened. Of course, he was wrong. The funerals were all held at once, and they were quiet, yet somehow tranquil. Everyone wore the nicest of their clothes. Afterwards everyone was properly buried just outside of the walls by a group of four vampires.

Now, things are trying to get back to normal. Much of the townspeople are only just starting to go back to work, and now - after such a long time - the town is starting to return to the bustling city Martin had become used to. New jobs are being handed out, new schedules are being finalized, and Carl, of course, is stressed beyond compare. He's handling much of the paperwork, and it’s obvious to Martin just how much strain the job is putting on the man.

“Thanks to Sila’s death,” Carl explains to him as they sit at lunch, “we have to reorganize the feeding lists.” He flips through his papers, barely stopping to look at Martin, let alone eat.

“Nadir, Carmen, and Tomas needed extra feeding and we had to pull extra people from a group right about in the middle of their schedules. Fine and all but now those people are in different spots thanks to the different groups.” He groans and looks back at his papers, scratching out and re-writing lists. Martin simply nods sympathetically; when Carl is this agitated, it’s best to just let him talk it out without interrupting.

“This week is Group Two but that included Patrick, Alfonso, and the still-injured Gemini.” He smacks his pen down and runs his hand through his hair. “Why the hell didn’t I see that.”

Martin recognizes Patrick and Gemini as two from his tree-cutting group who hadn’t been quite as lucky as him and Natasha. But the other...“Alfonso?”

Carl waves his hand. “He should’ve been retired weeks ago but I kept putting it off. He insisted that he was fine to carry on but I got a complaint from one of the vamps, those picky bastards.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

“The list is supposed to be up today,” he mumbles, shooting Martin a glare.

“I know that. But we’ve still only got eleven vampires in the city - there are exactly eleven people on your list there.”

“It’s protocol,” Carl says, voice coming dangerously close to a whine. “We have to have the same amount of choices as there are vampires in the coven just in case a. one vamp doesn’t like one pick, b. the group that’s gone shows up, or c. the person selected is injured or unable to participate in some way.”

Martin leans forward and swipes the papers from him, ignoring the second glare of the day that he gets in return. “Well you need people who’re midway through their break, right?”

Carl nods.

“And you draw names for extras, right?”

Another nod.

“Ok," he says, drawing out the word as he stares at the papers in his hand. Finally, he smiles a bit, pieces of the puzzle slotting into place. "So write down the names of the people in the former groups five, six, and seven and then you can draw the names from there.”

“Can’t do five,” Carl grumbles. “They’re too close and lost two people as well.”

“Fine, then just six and seven. Pick out who you’ll be having replace the people in group one, and then format the rest of the groups accordingly. As long as you get this week's group up, you'll have plenty of time to fix the other six groups.”

Carl takes a deep breath and grabs his papers back, flipping furiously through them as Martin’s words hit him. “Thank you,” he breathes, standing up and grinning, black mood suddenly forgotten. “I just get so caught up in all of this...”

“It’s fine,” Martin reassures him. “You’re doing fine. You’re keeping things perfectly organized and staying incredibly calm about it, especially compared to everyone else in this city. Well. Besides Carolyn, that is.”

Carl smiles, then. “That used to be my job, you know. Glad to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

“Your job used to be reorganizing lists after zombie attacks?”

“Cheeky bastard,” Carl mutters. He picks up his unfinished apple, staring at it before shrugging and tossing it from hand to hand. “I used to be in ATC - always organizing flights and fixing problems." He smiles. "Over at Fitton. You were a pilot, right? Did you ever fly there?”

Martin grins at him. “ATC? That’s amazing.” He continues to smile, thinking about flying to different countries, awkwardly radioing ATC officials when his Captains were too busy, occasionally watching his various Captains joke and flirt with them (even though it was entirely against the rules). “No,” he continues eventually. “I never flew to Fitton. It was pretty small, right?”

“Very,” Carl says, “but it was home. If the world ever gets fixed, I’d love to go back to it.” He closes his eyes before tossing the apple once more. “Well! I should be off. Thanks again, Martin.”

Martin chuckles and picks up his empty tray. “Small world,” he says, still grinning.

 

* * *

 

“Martin,” Mariam sighs at him as he approaches. “You have got to stop rolling around in the mud so often.”

“I do not ‘roll in mud’,” Martin says, voice indignant before he realizes the joke. He chuckles, then, as he finally stops at the laundry booth. “You know as well as I do how hard it’s been raining lately - I’m just...”

“Clumsy,” She finishes, winking at him before she pulls his clothes from the rack. “You keep it up and you’ll need a new set of clothes. And just when you were finally starting to fill this one out,” she jokes handing him each individual garment as she pulls them from their hangars.

He takes them gratefully. He hates only having one set of clothes to work in. He always feels he needs to be extra careful when wearing them and ends up getting them more dirty than ever before. He wishes Mariam’s joke about him being clumsy was only that: a joke.

“Ah! Before you go.”

Martin turns back. “Yes?”

“You’re friends with Carl right?” She waits for his confirmation. “The lists were pretty late today, right? Is something happening?”

“Just some reorganization,” he says, not having to mention why as he watches her face fall. Patrick was a good friend of hers, sometimes working extra shifts here just to hang out with her. He feels bad having brought up his death, no matter how offhanded.  

“You didn’t happen to see what group I’m in, did you?” she asks quietly, no longer quite as bright.

“Didn’t see it on there. You weren’t in group six or seven before, were you?”

“Nope. Why?”

“They’re picking people from those groups for this week. I don’t think I saw your name at all, at least, so you’re good for a bit. I think Carl’s going to put up the new lists real soon.”

“Perfect,” she says, smiling a bit. “I always hate being caught off...” she trails off, looking past Martin’s shoulder.

He turns and comes face to face with Carl who nearly runs him down. “Martin,” he pants, placing his hands on his knees. “Dear lord I’m out of shape.”

“Carl, what is it?”

Carl looks up, catching his breath. “Your name was pulled for this group but now there’s trouble. You need to get to the main hall and quick.”

Martin waves a quick goodbye to Mariam before jogging after Carl.

 

* * *

 

“So it’s illegal to claim a name now?” Stefan asks coolly, eyebrow raised in challenge. His voice is quiet, but it’s obvious to everyone in the room just how annoyed he is.

“You know as well as I do why this is unacceptable,” Carolyn snaps back.

“Oh can it, human.”

“Stefan,” Durai says, stepping close. Like Stefan, he doesn’t yell, but the tone of his voice is that of a commander - reproachful and absolute. “As a member of this coven you have an obligation to respect your fellow members’ wishes.”

“And as the _leader_ ,” he replies, voice hard. “You have an obligation to respect the rules that we set. You’ve said it yourself: rules trump personal wishes and opinion.”

“This isn’t bloody _opinion_ ,” Carolyn says. “This is bigger!”

“It’s a feeding,” Stefan says, turning and bending his face down to Carolyn’s level. “Just because they’ve had _sex_ doesn’t mean-”

“Oi,” Martin says, stepping into the middle of the fight as he feels a blush tint his ears pink. “If you ask me, that’s none of your business.”

The vampires and Carolyn all turn their heads and stare at him. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel quite as confident, but he continues anyway. He curls his hands into fists to assuage the minute shaking he feels in response to Stefan’s glare.  

“I take it Stefan signed up to have me?”

“Is that a problem?” he hisses.

Martin rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “Like you said, there’s no rule against it.”

“Martin-,” Carolyn starts, but he cuts her off.

“No, really. Douglas and I aren’t bonded yet. If my name is up there then any vampire can sign up for it. I shouldn’t get any special privileges. Rules are rules for a reason. What do we have when we just ignore them?”

Durai stares at him with his usual cool expression, though, if Martin had to guess, he’d say that there’s a hint of admiration there. Carolyn is shaking her head and staring at the ceiling and Stefan isn’t looking quite as smug as Martin thought he would’ve.

Carl pats him on the shoulder but he doesn’t turn. He continues staring at Stefan. The vampire scoffs and turns, pushing past Durai and out the door. Martin closes his eyes and breathes out, jumping when a second hand touches his arm.

He opens his eyes to Carolyn. “Martin you don’t have to do this.”

“Has Stefan ever chosen either one of you?” he interrupts.

“I’ve had him once or twice,” Carl says.

“And he was fine?”

“Yeah. Feeds, leaves you to sleep, feeds again later. You should bring a lot of food but that’s it.”

“Right,” Martin sighs. “So it’s perfectly fine.”

“But-,” Carolyn starts.

“I don’t think,” Martin cuts in. “That the attack by those Reapers was entirely coincidental. And even if it was...well...it doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that we can’t be fighting right now. We can’t afford for there to be tension right now, especially over such a stupid subject.”

“Fine,” Carolyn sighs. “I suppose you’re right. But you-,”

“Let you know if anything happens,” Martin chuckles. “I know, I know.”

“No need to be a smart arse,” she grumbles. “And if you cut me off one more time I’ll have you exiled.” She smiles a bit and pats his arm. “Listen, though. There’s no need, anymore, to play the martyr. You’ve got to learn to take care of yourself.”

“I am.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, staring at him for a few tense moments before shrugging it off and walking away.

Carl spins them around and they walk out into the midday town. “So you two have really....”

“Carl!” Martin exclaims, looking at him in annoyance. Honestly, he would have thought that to be obvious after the whole bonding discussion he and Carl had had weeks before. Either way, it’s not exactly a topic he’s comfortable discussing.

Carl smirks. “Just wondering,” he sings. “Now, let me have your laundry - I’ll take it back to your house.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you, sir, are very late for your shift.”

Martin looks at his wrist as if there were a watch there but knows Carl must be right regardless. “Oh come on,” he shouts, throwing his clothes at Carl and running off to find his crew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know updates on this aren't exactly the best, but I'm trying to keep them within a month. I'll be starting college in the next couple weeks and I've been so busy with orientations and webinars and financial aid craziness - well, I'll hope this isn't an indication of how the year is going to be haha. 
> 
> Anyway, the school I'm starting is promising to be very difficult from the get-go. I'm going to try to set deadlines for posting on [my writing blog](princesscocoa.tumblr.com) but if updates come a little later, please don't worry. If it'll be _too_ long, I'll make a post on that blog describing why.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is keeping up with this - commenting and kudosing. It's all very motivating. I hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you ever get the feeling you’re back in primary school with the way things are run around here?” Natasha asks, looking around the cafeteria as they both sit after dinner.

Martin smiles at that, brought out of his worry by the comment. “I suppose you could say that,” he murmurs, absently watching the people mill about.

“I mean think about it,” she continues. “You were late to the shift today, running up with all kinds of excuses-,”

“It really wasn’t my fault, Natasha, I just-,”

She waves her hand, cutting him off. “Yeah yeah, whatever. If it was anyone but you, Martin, I’d have ripped into you.” She smiles at him when he looks at her before averting her eyes to watch the room once more. “And look now: we’re eating in a communal cafeteria at set times.”

He glances at her. “Is that it, then? The two things?”

“Well. And the gossip.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “Oh of course. How could I forget?”

Grinning, Natasha says, “I don’t know; it’s mostly been about you ever since you arrived.”

Martin groans, head falling onto his crossed arms on the table. He glances up when she doesn’t speak to find that she’s staring at the front of the room. Martin turns, watching as Eliza bounces in, running over to the buffet area and grabbing a basket of fruits from the woman behind the counter.

“For her human,” Natasha mumbles, eyes following her.

Martin nods. “She’s so nice. It’s almost overwhelming.”

Natasha hums in response, turning her head to watch the front door. Martin glances in that direction where Lydia is waiting, watching Eliza with a smile. He frowns. “I didn’t know they were friends.”

“Hm?” Natasha hums, following Martin’s line of sight. “Oh,” she says, drawing out the words as a smile spreads across her face. “Well, not exactly friends.”

“What? What do you mean? Why else would she-,”

“Martin,” Natasha says, cutting him off and making him look her in the eye. “Not exactly _friends_ ,” she repeats, staring at him.

“Oh.” He pauses, thinking. “ _Oh._ ”

Natasha leans back, crossing her arms. “Exactly.”

Martin can feel his face heat up. “But. But. Um. But…”

“If you say that word one more time I’m going to have to stuff a roll down your throat,” Natasha jokes, staring pointedly at the barely-touched tray of a woman halfway down the table from them.

“I just mean,” Martin starts, taking a breath. “Well. Isn’t Lydia one of Stefan’s supporters? An-and I thought Eliza and Isaac were...a thing.”

Natasha leans back, a considering look falling over her features. “In the world of vampires, those who change you are either your best friends or your worst enemies,” Natasha explains. “At least, that’s what Isaac has told me.”

“Ok…”

Natasha sighs, looking around. “Isaac trusts me enough to talk to me. I don’t know why. But we always chat when my turn comes around.” She shrugs. “I know a lot of things that other people don’t. Stuff that they’re not really supposed to know.”

He takes the hint. “I get it. Isaac’s just overwhelmed, obviously. Needs an outside source to vent to.”

“But,” she continues, ignoring his attempt to close the subject. “I think you deserve to know. Besides,” she smirks, “now I’ll finally have something to gossip about that doesn’t revolve around you.”

Martin rolls his eyes, standing when she does. “You don’t have to Natasha. I don’t want you to talk behind Isaac’s back at the detriment of your friendship.”

Natasha shakes her head. “It’s not like that. We’re not really that close anywhere else. Besides, he never told me I couldn’t tell anyone. I think he understands my discretion - I only confide in people I trust.” She looks around, picking up her tray. “But not here. Let’s go back to your place.”

Martin follows her out of the building, walking alongside her as they trek along the small dirt walkway that leads to his housing group.

With dinner just finishing for most, many of the citizens in the town are milling about, running their errands for the day. Natasha and Martin step out of the way of several people, including one woman with a large pile of laundry blocking her view and three children following behind her. Martin grins at one of the little boys - Jeremy - as Natasha waves at him. Jeremy is probably his favorite “neighbor” - always following him around and trying hard to help the building teams.

“See you at the site tomorrow, Jeremy?” Natasha asks, causing the boy to spin around.

“Gotta help with cooking tomorrow, Nat,” he yells, running after his mother even before the last words leave his mouth.

Natasha shakes her head. “Even more of a workaholic than you.”

Martin snorts. “Yeah. Too bad a six year old can’t work more efficiently or else he could take over for me.”

“Oh he does fine,” she says, smiling and pushing open the door to Martin’s unit. She lets him in, moving the door back and forth after he’s cleared the doorway, frowning at the squeaking of the hinges. “Your units are up soon for remodelling, else I’d fix this right here and now,” she says, patting the door as she shuts it.

Martin shrugs. “I don’t mind it, else I would have already. I’m not around here much, anyway.”

Natasha nods, moving to sit down on the single chair in the room as Martin takes a seat on his cot. “Right,” she says. “Time for you to know everything I know.”

Raising his eyebrows, Martin leans back. “You say it like this is going to be a conversation that lasts hours.”

“Might,” Natasha replies, immediately smiling. “I’m kidding, take the look off your face. It’s not like Isaac has told me _that_ much.”

“Right,” Martin replies, relaxing. He’s never been good at late-night conversations, and after today’s craziness, he doesn’t think he could even try to handle it.

She eyes him from where she sits. “First a disclaimer,” she says, grimacing. “Man does that sound professional. And distant.” When he doesn’t react besides nodding at her, she presses on. “I heard about what happened today, Martin. I wouldn’t be telling you any of this is I didn’t first trust and respect you.”

He blinks at that. Several times. “You...you…?”

Natasha grins. “Yes, Martin, I respect you. You’re obviously brave and caring and selfless. I don’t know a single person in this town who has done more for the community in such a short amount of time.”

Martin shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m not any of that.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha leans back, shaking her head. “And that’s your problem, Martin. You don’t recognize any of that in yourself.”

Martin rubs the back of his head, looking away. “I’m...sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Natasha says, chuckling. “Just keep what I just said in mind. Ok?”

Martin blushes, not really knowing what to say. “Oh. Ok. Thanks.”

“Now,” she continues, returning to her original position - elbows on her knees, chin in hand. “Like I was saying. I trust you and respect you, and I expect that you won’t go around gossiping about the vamps. Part of me telling you what I know is me wanting to get it out there but part of it is to help you. Most people in the town know about and ignore the petty ‘allegiances’ between the vamps, but you’re newer than the rest, and haven’t had time to observe.”

She sighs. “Honestly, this whole thing seems ridiculous to most people, but this budding civil war - as I’ve come to see it - is far more dangerous than I think people give it credit for. Douglas may seem like he’s apathetic compared to Stefan’s vigor, but they both have vastly differing opinions.”

“Opinions on…”

“Humans. Their purpose and worth.”

“Oh.” And doesn’t that answer feel so pathetic considering the information he’s just been given. This fight is over his _worth_? He knew Stefan was disdainful, but how far does that dislike spread? What does that disdain mean for his safety? His autonomy?

“Hey,” Natasha says, snapping her fingers in front of him to return his attention. “It’s not like it’s that bad right now. Honestly, it all depends on Durai, and right now, he seems solidly on Douglas’s side.”

She takes a breath again, and Martin copies her actions, calming. He nods at her to continue.

“According to Isaac, this all started as a bit of a rivalry between the two top vampires in the coven. Behind Giselle and Durai of course: Chryslin and Stefan.”

“Wait wait wait. _Chryslin_?”

Natasha smiles. “Yeah. Ok ok, a little background, first. Not too much, mind. Even Isaac wouldn’t tell me much about this. Chryslin, though, is Douglas’s teacher, of sorts. She brought him into the coven.”

“She changed him?”

Natasha screws up her face, rolling her head. “Um. No. But she saved him, I guess. Or...something.” She shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t know much. What Isaac made perfectly clear, though, is that the vampire who changed Douglas is never to be discussed. There’s more than a bit of bad blood there.”

Martin nods, making a mental note not to talk about that particular subject unless Douglas brings it up himself.

“So,” Natasha continues. “Some time after Chryslin brought Douglas in, Stefan began to become more radical. Where Chryslin remembered her human roots fondly, and even befriended humans, Stefan came to hate them. He sees humans as food. Worthless but for their ability to sate his hunger. It was a sore subject, though generally left alone until one day when Stefan drank too much. He ended up killing a human. Chryslin heard about it and was disgusted at his lack of remorse. Before things could get too out of control, he left.”

“For how long?” Martin sits up, finding himself far more invested in this story than he’d intended on being.

“About sixty years. When he returned, he brought Lydia, Carmen, and Nadir with him. He quieted down for awhile while he showed them the ropes of being vampires.”

“So Stefan changed Lydia.”

“Yeah. Saved her, I guess.”

Martin purses his lips. “So Lydia is loyal to Stefan because of it.”

“Isaac told me that teaching the others brought a side out in Stefan that he hadn’t seen for centuries - something kind. His new followers adored him and his newly-revealed charm during that time gave him a niche back into the coven, made it so even Isaac liked him. And, by extension, Eliza.”

“Eliza wasn’t changed by Stefan?”

“No. By Isaac.”

Martin falls sideways onto his cot. “This is too much.”

Natasha smiles, though it seems strained. “Just bear with me. It’s complicated but that’s what you get for dealing with people who have lived as far as they have.”

She nods at him, questioning whether or not he’s ready to continue. When he nods back, she goes on. “So. Isaac was and is very protective of Eliza.” She sighs. “Honestly, with the way he talks about her, it’s obvious he loves her.”

Martin frowns. “But earlier you said…”

She nods. “I did. Isaac saved Eliza, and there’s no doubt that she adores him, but her and Lydia were both new together - changed closer together than anyone else in the group. I guess they formed a special bond different than that between Isaac and Eliza. Where Isaac was a savior and a mentor, Lydia was a companion.” She shrugs. “Isaac loves her but understands Eliza’s feelings.”

“Ok…” Martin says, processing all the new information. “So Isaac changed Eliza, Stefan changed Lydia, everyone got along for awhile. What changed?”

She looks at him, face grim. “Stefan did. With so many vamps befriending him and on his side, he began to gain confidence in his past opinions. People were less likely to make a fuss when he voiced his thoughts, and those vampires he brought back with him even seemed to agree with him - probably out of loyalty and ignorance more than anything. He became louder, especially after the village was founded. Durai stepped in eventually, setting rules that the whole coven must abide by: rules that would appease both Stefan and Chryslin.”

“The same rules we have now?”

“Yes. Basically boiling down to don’t hurt humans and respect your coven-mates.”

Martin shivers. “Stefan was spouting that earlier. Talking about the rules Durai set in place.”

Natasha nods. “That’s him alright. He loves to spout the rules, twist them to fit his needs. Durai can’t go back on the very rules he established, and can even be persuaded into altering them when Stefan gets serious. Isaac told me that sometimes, Giselle has to step in as an outside voice of reason, but sometimes even she can’t find a way to unravel his pseudo-logic.”

“So where does Douglas come into all of this?”

Natasha grins. “Douglas has as smooth a tongue as Stefan. They both have incredible powers of persuasion, and Douglas used his to help Chryslin. He felt he owed her, but at the same time agreed with her. He sees the coexistence of humans and vampires as a deal of sorts. According to Isaac, he believes humans need to respect vampires, but that respect needs to go both ways.” She looks at him. “Your boyfriend is a weird one, that’s for sure. But level-headed. And, when he’s not trying to be cool, he’s kinder than most.”

Martin feels heat rise all the way up from his chest to the tips of his ears. “I. Er.”

She laughs. “Moving on.” She leans back, staring at the ceiling. “Tensions rose, with Stefan and Chryslin at the center. Everyone else started taking sides. At first, Eliza followed Lydia to Stefan’s side, but for some reason, she broke off from him. After awhile, Stefan had Lydia, Evren, Clayton, and Nadir on his side while Chryslin had Douglas, Irina, Isaac, Tomas, Andrei, and - eventually - Eliza. Durai and Giselle tried hard to be intermediaries, never choosing sides but trying to appease everyone.

“Then, Chryslin died, and everything got worse. Stefan tried to exert more authority, Douglas and the new human leader Carolyn stepped in, trying to make Durai and Giselle see both sides of Stefan’s ridiculous argument. It’s been at a stalemate since, and thanks to Douglas’s original determination to carry on Chryslin’s wishes, he’s become the leader of the opposing side. Because nothing really new has happened in the argument, no one seems to take it seriously anymore, but Isaac is fearful of what’s to come, and I am too, especially after today.”

Martin blinks, a shiver running up his spine. “You think Stefan’s going to start something?”

She shrugs. Shaking her head, she looks to the floor. “I don’t know. But wanting you specifically with Douglas gone makes me wary. That’s why I wanted you to know where things stand. You need to be careful.”

Martin’s hands come up and grip his arms in an almost-hug. He feels cold, suddenly. “I… what do you think is going to happen?”

She looks at him, and immediately changes her tone. “Honestly, probably nothing. Stefan likes to push boundaries but he doesn’t like to put himself out there to be criticized, nor does he want to break the tenuous trust he holds with Durai. He’s desperate to change the foundations of this town but afraid of losing the position he currently holds. He’s usually so predictable…”

“But him causing such a stir to get me was different from the norm.”

Natasha frowns. “Yes. I don’t know what he’s planning.”

Martin closes his eyes, feeling sick with worry. “Is he really so dangerous? Am I in danger here?”

“I’d like to think he’s filled his quota of boundary-pushing behavior, but I can’t be certain. You shouldn’t be in danger and if you are or feel you are for whatever reason, I’ll be there. The higher-ups don’t seem too worried but I don’t know what’s going to happen. When I talked to Isaac though, before this all happened, we agreed that about time for the tension to break, one way or another.”

“And I’m the catalyst.”

Natasha stands, stretching and reaching a hand out to Martin. Martin grabs her hand, standing on unsteady legs. He looks to her in question, but then suddenly, she’s hugging him.

He blinks, arms raised in surprise. Eventually, he leans into it, not realizing how much he wanted the physical comfort before it happened.

Her hand comes up, and holds his head in place. “You’re brave, Martin, and you’re not alone,” she whispers fiercely. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and it sucks that you’re in the middle of all this. Maybe nothing will happen, maybe something will, I don’t know. But no matter what, you have me and Carl and Carolyn and Douglas and so many others to look to.”

He shivers, feeling almost as if he’s going into the heart of battle rather than the vampires’ house for a few probably harmless days. “Thank you.”

She steps back, keeping her arms on his shoulders. She smiles. “I’m probably being paranoid.”

Martin shrugs. “Better safe than sorry,” he replies, trying to shake himself of the unsteadiness he’s been feeling since Natasha wrapped her arms around him. “Not that I can really do anything at this point.”

“You can go to Durai. And if you don’t think you can, go to Isaac. But, like I said, I don’t see Stefan trying anything without Douglas here.”

He hums. “Or maybe that’s the reason he will. Without Douglas, he’s unrestrained.”

She lets him go, frowning. “Is that pessimism I hear?”

“Hard not to be after everything I’ve heard,” he replies, somewhat bitterly. He’s grateful for the information but he’s not pleased with the timing. The last thing he needs is to be freaked out for no reason.

“Would you rather I hadn’t talked to you?”

Martin closes his eyes, shaking his head. “No,” he sighs. “No. I’m glad I know now. It’s so much better, finally understanding this town. I’m just worried now where I was finally starting to relax after today.” He chuckles, trying to shake himself of the trembling that’s overcome him in the last few minutes.

Natasha smiles tentatively at him, walking towards the door. “Meet me for breakfast in the morning. I’ll find a way to get you some coffee or tea or something. I owe you some after keeping you up late.”

She opens the door and Martin sees, now, how late it truly is. No longer is the sun on the horizon, giving the sky an orange hue - now the sky is dark but for the thousands of stars above. The moon, almost full tonight, hangs high in the sky. He groans. “I have the early shift, too.”

She smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Coffee or tea?”

“You can really do that?”

She smirks. “I’m the job manager, I can do anything.”

Martin smiles, feeling better now that they’ve moved on from the morbid subject. “Tea, then. Please.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late.”

He snorts, watching her go. Soon, she disappears behind a grouping of houses, and he closes the door. Leaning against it, he stares up at the ceiling. This village - originally a haven - is so much more complicated and, apparently dangerous, than he originally anticipated. And of course, he’s right in the middle of all the problems.

He closes his eyes. He’ll be fine. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! As usual, I'm late but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I figured it was about time we get a little explanation into my OC's :). 
> 
> Just so you all know, my first year of college is up and running...very quick, I might say. I just had my Physics and Calc exams and I have Chemistry this week. Should be fun haha. I want to thank everyone for all the well-wishes; college is hard as heck but it's enjoyable. 
> 
> Updates will try to return to monthly as I'm now mostly settled in. Writing helps relax me and seeing people reading my stories always makes me happy - a good thing for when I'm stressing over my classes. So thank you everyone who has read, commented, and kudos'd. I refuse to abandon you and I hope you know that, even as my updates lag.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who recently commented: thank you. My roommates will tell you I got really excited about them and actually pushed myself to rewrite everything I wanted to because of the kind words. 
> 
> This is an extremely long chapter compared to the rest but I figure you all deserve it for still following this! Because of the changes I made in this, I'm going to have to re-write the entire following plot but it's a job I'm looking forward to now. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with it, all! I can finally update my writing blog!
> 
> **Warnings in this chapter for non-con-type happenings. Nothing explicit but be warned!**

Two days later finds Martin waiting patiently on his cot for his wakeup call to arrive.

Trying to sleep the night before proved to be nearly impossible and what little sleep he did manage was filled with dreams of the day his father was killed. Eventually, when the sun had started to turn the sky a pale pink color, Martin simply gave it all up as a lost cause and got himself ready for the day.

When the door finally opens, it’s Carl that looks in and Martin smiles at the sight. Carl, meanwhile, doesn’t even seem surprised that Martin is already awake. He offers Martin the cup of coffee he brought and smiles. “You hardly even need the wakeup call anymore,” he points out, picking up Martin’s pack as they both turn to leave.

Martin shrugs. “I used to have the best internal clock – the idea of being late to anything always worried me and made it so I couldn’t sleep in even if I wanted to.” He smiles a bit. “It’s good to see it still works,” he says. He doesn’t mention that in this case, he hardly slept at all. Though, by the look on Carl’s face, Martin is fairly sure the man was easily able to figure out his unspoken words.

They’re silent, then, as they emerge from his home and walk through the town. Martin finds that he’s actually able to relax a bit; he loves this time of day in the small city. While he appreciates the amount of people around him after months of being alone, he’s always had a fondness for the quiet calm that morning brings. Not many people are up and about just yet, and those that are have only taken to shuffling along silently as they try to wake up fully.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” Martin asks suddenly. He hasn’t up to this point, almost afraid of hearing the answer. But now, he finds, even if the answer is longer than he would hope, it’s something he can look forward to after all this tension-filled craziness has passed: a light at the end of the tunnel.

Carl glances at him and shrugs. “It’s been a month so it can’t be much longer at this point. There’s really no telling with Douglas, especially since he’s never really gone out before. He’s stubborn. As much as I’m sure he wants to get back to you, he’ll probably also have a desire to make Clayton as uncomfortable as possible.”

“That does sound like him,” Martin muses. He doesn’t notice that he’s nervously picking at the hemline of his provided clothes, but Carl does.

“What’re you worried about?” he asks, slinging his arm around Martin’s shoulders. “I’m sure he’s doing just fine.”

“Hm?” Martin looks down at his fingers and sighs. He forcibly straightens them out. “Oh. Yes. I’m sure he’s fine. I’ve seen him fight, after all.”

Carl purses his lips. “So the problem isn’t with Douglas being out there, but with what’s going to happen when he gets back. Right?”

“I-…um. Well. Yes. I’m worried about what he’ll think. If he’ll be…I don’t know…angry somehow. What if he doesn’t understand?”

Carl removes his arm, straightening the pack on his shoulder. “If he’s angry at anyone, it’ll be Stefan, definitely not you. He’ll see that you’re willing to do this because you want to maintain the peace of the city – it’s brave, and he’ll recognize that. He seems to be quite understanding when it comes to you.”

“I hope so,” Martin mumbles, so quietly he’s not sure Carl can even hear. He glances up, seeing that they’ve arrived at the grand house almost without him realizing it.

Carl reaches forward and opens the grand doors into the vampires’ home. He does a quick search of the front room before leading Martin straight to the stairs.

“We’ll avoid a mess like last time, I think,” he explains as he leads Martin through the maze of doors. “Now Stefan’s room should be right…here!”

He pulls open a door identical to the one in Douglas’s room. In fact, the room in its entirety is exactly the same as Douglas’s except for the paintings hanging on the walls. Where Douglas’s room was a bit more open and light, Stefan’s is darker. The brooding colors make the room seem colder – altogether impersonal – and it leaves Martin feeling once again uneasy.

“Thank you, Carl,” he murmurs, walking in and placing himself carefully in the settee against the wall.

Carl sets his pack down and stands awkwardly. “No problem, Martin. Unfortunately, I can’t stay until he gets here. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Martin replies absently. He’s busy taking in the room, almost completely blocking out Carl’s presence as he waits for the man to leave. He’s starting to feel numb and he’s not fond of the fact – almost back to the feeling of emptiness he carried with him every day he was outside of the walls.

Now that he’s here, Martin realizes his fear of vampires isn’t at all abolished. He realizes, now, that the way Natasha talked of Isaac and the way Douglas and Eliza have treated him has given him a false sense of security.

Up until this point, he hasn’t had to confront this fear, so he’s buried it. Now, though, it’s threatening to break through his calm exterior, almost making him ready to forget his resolve and follow Carl right out of here.

He’ll just be happy when all of this is over. It’s the same feeling he had when he was first with Douglas and still unsure about the whole process; he only needs to get through the feeding. That’s all. One or two feedings and then he can leave and wait for Douglas to get back and not have to put himself out there again.

“Martin!” Carl leans down and snaps in front of his face. “There you are. You’re looking pretty pale there.”

“I’m fine.”

“Right,” Carl says. “You know you can leave if it’s too uncomfortable. Carolyn’s talked with Durai already. If you need to get out, even if it’s just emotional, you leave.”

Martin is surprised at the admission, but grateful all the same. Knowing that his friends were all thinking about his feelings like that instills in him the same resolve he had days before. Like before, his determination trumps his ever-present nervousness.

“Thank you,” he replies sincerely. It’s surprising, really, the fact that Durai readily agreed to such a measure. Though, in all honesty, Carolyn likely bullied him into it. Nonetheless, it’s interesting; is Stefan really such a wildcard? Even after all the lengths he’s taken to appear the rational and calm one?

Carl pats his shoulder once. “Don’t forget to eat, alright?” he says as he leaves the room, the door closing with hardly a whisper of sound.

Martin stands and examines the room, staring at the painting at the far end, just beside the head of the bed. Where Douglas has a huge portrait of sweeping farmland, Stefan has a surreal piece: the canvas covered in dark, morose blacks, reds, and browns. Martin can’t exactly tell what it’s meant to be, but it seems depressing, to say the least. Though, to be honest, it fits with Stefan’s overall dark, business-like aesthetic.

“So the pet appreciates art, does he?”

Martin jumps at the voice, spinning around to face the voice behind him. He’s not sure how long he was standing here trying to decipher the picture, but judging by Stefan’s smirk, it was probably longer than is usually necessary.

“It’s a…um…strange piece. Nice, though!” he quickly amends, mentally kicking himself for almost insulting the vampire. Despite his best efforts, though, his words stutter, and he finds himself fervently hoping that some of his confidence from two days before will reappear.

Stefan scoffs and rolls his eyes, slamming the door shut behind him. “As if you have even an inkling of understanding regarding its meaning,” he mocks. He stares at Martin, not moving.

Martin straightens, raising his head. It’s the same stance he always used to use whenever he tried to emulate his captains. He wants so desperately to be able be authoritative now, just like they always were. “Look,” he says, indignant at Stefan’s remarks, “I’m not here to discuss art. Now,” he rolls up his sleeve, raising his wrist. The look on Stefan’s face tells him he’s missing the ‘authoritative’ voice by a fair margin, but he plows on. “If you’re here to feed, then here.”

Stefan chuckles and crosses his arms, looking to the side before meeting Martin’s eyes again. “You sure are standoffish, aren’t you?”

Martin doesn’t respond. He remains where he is, lowering his arm when it seems Stefan isn’t going to take it.

Stefan walks to the side of the room, pouring a glass of water from the tray there and offering it to Martin.

Martin takes it cautiously, watching Stefan as he leans against the wall.

“I’ll admit, I’m baffled,” he starts, eyeing Martin. “All this time and I still don’t see a single intriguing quality about you.”

Martin narrows his eyes, offended but not enough to snap at the vampire. He simply stares, waiting for the point.

Stefan smirks. “Douglas has so much potential, but like his predecessor he’s become infatuated with a simple human. And why? What about you humans is so enamoring to these powerful beings?”

He shrugs, swirling the pitcher of water. “I suppose even Zeus had affairs with humans.” He glances at Martin, “though in the end, it never worked out very well for the lover.”

Martin feels his eyebrows shoot up at the analogy. Does Stefan really think himself so far above humans that he equates himself to a god? How has he strayed so far from his human roots?

Stefan steps forward, hand outstretched. Martin has to forcibly stop himself from backing up. Everything about this is so much different than what he pictured. Actually, he’s not even entirely sure what he pictured, but it wasn’t so calm. So…ordinary.

Stefan continues to hold out his hand, looking increasingly annoyed until Martin gets the picture.

Martin raises his arm, allowing him to take hold of it.

Without warning, Stefan bites in. Martin winces, waiting for the pain but…there’s nothing. The only thing he feels is Stefan’s hand holding his arm in place, but besides that, everything feels normal.

The room is silent as Stefan drinks small sips from Martin’s forearm. It’s awkward at first, just standing and doing nothing, but as more time passes, Martin becomes worried. He wonders how long this is going to last and, if it goes on for much longer, if he should perhaps sit down.

His feeling of numbness slowly returns as worry takes hold. He still feels as if he should be waiting for pain, and the anticipation makes his nerves bubble back to the surface. He tries and fails to stop the tremors that are slowly overtaking his body once more, chastising himself for his ridiculous behavior. Nothing about this is out of the ordinary yet his body insists on shooting adrenaline and fear through his mind only because of his proximity to the vampire.

Stefan stops, leaving the wound open as he moves his head up. He glances at Martin and then at the wrist shaking just the tiniest bit in his grasp. Then, instead of backing up or even speaking, he smiles.

“Do you know,” he begins airily, staring at Martin’s bloodied wrist, “how vampires turn a human?”

It takes a moment to register, but suddenly, Martin’s whole body goes rigid as his eyes widen. “What?” he rasps.

Stefan grins at Martin, holding his wrist tightly now.

“It’s simple really. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Despite all the fallacies you humans believe in relation to us, you were all surprisingly correct in this one aspect. At least, closer than usual.”

He backs Martin up to the bed, forcing him to sit down. Stefan then kneels in front of him, face to face.

“All I need to do is drink your blood, simple really. I have to drink enough that you almost pass out – it’s better if you’re almost dead,” he pauses a moment, “but it doesn’t matter. Then, my blood needs to enter your body somehow.” His thumb caresses the wound on Martin’s arm.

Martin jumps, body shaking uncontrollably. Is Stefan just trying to rile him up? If so, then it’s working. He tries to move away but Stefan grips the back of his head suddenly, pulling it down so that their brows are nearly touching. Martin can only stare.

“It works best if you drink it,” he continues nonchalantly, voice keeping a lighthearted tone even as Martin’s breath gets faster and faster, the room seeming to become smaller and smaller. “But you humans are so disgusted by the process it’s comical really. So as long as I can get a bit coursing through your body, it really doesn’t matter how it’s done.”

“Then, for the grand finale,” he says with a flourish, removing his hand from Martin’s head. “I stab you in the heart.” His finger jabs painfully into Martin’s chest with the words, making him yelp.

“Around that wound our new bodies grow. We are all left with the scar.”

Suddenly, Stefan pushes Martin harshly back, leaving him laying prone on the bed.

Martin makes to get up, to scramble away, to do something besides idly sit by but Stefan is faster. He moves quickly, grabbing Martin and manhandling him so that his whole body is laying horizontally on the bed. Next, he sits on his legs, pinning him down.

“Stefan stop. Whatever you’re planning just stop,” Martin gasps, wriggling around even as Stefan grabs a hold of his wrist, using his other hand to push Martin’s torso against the bed. “Whatever you’re about to do, it’s going to ostracize you. Is…is getting back at Douglas worth giving up the trust you’ve built with Durai?”

The words leave him in a rush, panic making them higher pitched than normal. But instead of acknowledging the words, Stefan ignores him, continuing on with his last conversation.

“It’s amazing how similar changing someone is to making them your bondmate,” he murmurs, staring at Martin’s wrist. His other hand rubs down Martin’s chest, fingernails cutting through the fabric into his skin.

The words hit Martin like a bucket of ice water and leaves his chest heaving as Stefan moves his wrist back to his mouth. This time it does hurt. It hurts like hell. Fire seems to flow from the site of the bite wound all the way down his arm to spread throughout his body. It makes him buck up, ignoring Stefan’s sharp fingernails digging into his side. It hurts more than anything he’s felt before, and his panic only seems to worsen it.

This time, Stefan isn’t being dainty at all. He’s taking huge gulps, drinking Martin’s life away as the man struggles not to scream.

It seems to take an eternity for Stefan to get his fill, and by the time he removes his mouth, Martin is seeing stars, eyelids fluttering as he struggles to stay awake.

Stefan lifts his other hand from Martin’s torso, and he flicks his nail across his own palm, watching idly as blood begins to drip from the wound, trailing lazily down his hand.

“This,” Stefan says, “is my ticket to total control. With you on my side, Douglas is forced to obey me. He can’t hurt me as long as it would hurt you. That means, as well, that he can’t go against me.”

“He can,” Martin gasps, trying fervently to convince Stefan not to do this. His words are sluggish, the threat of unconsciousness right on the edge of his mind. “I won’t let him be your puppet. He won’t just sit by and let you do what you want. That’s not like him. He’s stubborn and vindictive. He’ll do whatever it takes to stop whatever you have planned for this village…”

Martin is speaking quickly, exhaustion and panic all culminating into him babbling nonsensically. He speaks, saying whatever he can to get Stefan to believe him, even if he doesn’t believe it himself. “He’ll go right through me to get to you – to get his revenge. He may seem to care about me but we both know I’m only a mortal. He’ll have to let me go at some point and it’s better to do it sooner than la-,”

“Wrong,” Stefan interrupts.

Martin’s jaw clicks shut.

“The moment he brought you through those gates I knew. He looks at you the same way he used to look at the portraits of his pathetic little wife and daughter. He sees them in you and he won’t let you die like he did them.”

Martin takes a shaking breath, brain not even registering the importance of the words as fear grips him. He can only watch numbly as his wrist is brought to Stefan’s hand and their blood is mingled. Within moments, his whole body is shaking with the force of whatever is happening to it.

Though Martin’s mind wants to block it out he knows – a bond is being formed. A bond between him and Stefan. He chokes back a sob as Stefan runs a sharp nail from the bite wound down his arm. The movement is slow, the line of red following behind barely enough to break skin but it does. With everything else happening, Martin barely feels it.

“With these marks, I make you mine,” Stefan murmurs. “Too bad for our boy Douglas….I got to you first.” It’s the last thing Martin hears before he falls into unconsciousness.

  

* * *

 

 

When Martin wakes, he feels disoriented, fuzzy, and cold. His whole body feels as if it’s floating yet, when he tries to move, it resists. Lethargy spreads through him slowly and it takes him an age just to sit up. His memories of what happened to him to make him feel the way he does are completely blank. All he knows is that he feels as if he could do anything, anything at all if not for the damn exhaustion settling resolutely into his bones.

He manages to push himself all the way up, sighing as he leans heavily against the headboard of the bed he’s in. A twinge of worry rushes through him as he realizes that this bed is not his own, but it doesn’t permeate his conscious mind. He simply sits, staring. While he feels anxiety prickle at the back of his mind, the forefront halts it, leaving him in a dreamy state.

Everything in the room around him is brighter, somehow; sharper. It’s like switching to an HD television after living years on a bunny-ears, 80’s-born box. The colors around him seem to have taken on a fresh hue. He looks around, eyes wandering throughout the room as he takes it in with this new sight.

It’s only then that he catches a glimpse of his left wrist, finally allowing the anxiety in the back of his mind to break through. There, instead of the smooth pale skin he’s used to, is a large scar. A bite mark with another, thinner scar running down his arm.

Suddenly, every one of his memories hits him, the wall that contained them shattering like glass. A black line runs along the length of the new scars, all the way down his arm and, he finds, to the center of his chest. It stops at another scar, filling it in. A strange pattern that Stefan must have carved onto him after he’d been knocked out.

The thought fills his eyes with tears and Martin finds himself choking on sobs. It’s all so brutal, all of it. All to gain a bit of power in a harmless, innocent city. He allows himself, for the first time in over a year, to feel sorry for himself. He cries, wondering what this all would have been like with Douglas. Surely not as painful. He’s sure he would be laughing alongside the man instead of crying alone.

He’s surprised Stefan and Douglas are the same species at all. He wonders, then, which one is the anomaly. Is Douglas a better representation than Stefan? Or maybe it’s the other way around? Are they all kind and gentle underneath their otherworldly exterior or are they all monsters, ready to take what doesn’t belong to them only because they can?

He feels sick suddenly. Somehow, Martin finds the strength to push himself from the bed and rush to the bathroom, just in time to heave the entirety of his stomach into the toilet. It seems to last forever, until eventually Martin is left dry heaving and sobbing into the bowl.

He’s bonded but not to the man he wanted. What does that mean for him? He’s marked, obviously. Claimed. All without his consent. Douglas will see. Everyone will see. They won’t know – they’ll think he’s some kind of- of vampiric plaything. Tossed around to the next strongest bidder.

It makes him shake – the injustice of it all. He wants to scream, wants to punch something, wants to run from this house and from this town back out into the world filled with zombies. At least out there, no one is trying to make a power play. There was no strategy, no intelligent enemy. No danger that couldn’t be handled without a shotgun and a fast pair of legs.

God, what will Douglas think? He can’t even imagine it. How is Martin supposed to explain? How does he show that he volunteered, consented to a blood drinking, but didn’t consent to _this_? Never for _this_. He just wanted to protect the city from a civil war – he wanted to prevent himself being the catalyst to their downfall. For once for _fucking_ once he wanted to be able to do something brave and have everything turn out okay in the end.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opens, making Martin jump. He pushes himself up from his pathetic position next to the toilet. But, try as he might, he can’t manage to even sit up properly, much less stand to face Stefan. It seems all of the energy he had flowing through him only moments before has vanished just as quickly as it came.

He turns to find Stefan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring down at him with a grimace. He moves quickly forward, hauling Martin up by his shoulders and placing him on the edge of the large bathtub there.

“Take your clothes of,” he says, moving to start the water.

Martin doesn’t move, only stares at him as he gets the bath going.

“I said take your clothes off. You need a bath you disgusting creature,” he commands, voice steely enough that Martin begins to shake with the force of it.

Stefan rolls his eyes. “Honestly you are the most pathetic thing.”

He stands, causing Martin to flinch. Stefan ignores the reaction, instead pushing the tattered shirt from Martin’s torso and pulling his trousers off as well. The whole business is totally perfunctory, and when Stefan is done, he lifts Martin into the tub, almost tenderly.

All in all, it disgusts Martin more than the violence before.

“Wash up,” Stefan says, tossing him a sponge. He steps over to the countertop that houses the sink, throwing himself up onto it and sitting, looking at his nails.

“What are you doing?” Martin croaks from where he’s huddled in the bathtub, holding his knees against his chest. The water makes his skin prickle more than usual – it’s almost painful in its intensity but the warmth does something in the way of comforting him.

“Making sure you don’t drown,” Stefan hums, still not looking at him. Even as he says it, Martin can feel his eyelids getting heavy, and, reluctantly, he begins washing himself before his body decides to fall asleep on him once more. “It would be such a waste for you to die after all the work I put in to getting you here,” Stefan continues.

The words fill Martin with red hot anger, and he locks his jaw. “You didn’t put any _work_ into getting me here. You threw a fucking tantrum. Up until this point you’ve sat in the shadows like a coward.” The words leave him before he can think about them but Martin finds he doesn’t mind. It’s true. And at this point, he doesn’t particularly care about how Stefan reacts to them.

Stefan raises an eyebrow, looking at him. “Mark the pet up and fill it with vampire blood and suddenly it learns to bark.”

“Stop _fucking_ calling me that.”

Stefan smirks but says no more.

They’re silent, then, as Martin scrubs at his body – likely more harshly than warranted. For a few moments he tries washing repeatedly at the line on his arm, but it doesn’t dull in the slightest. He’s sure that by Stefan’s snort the vampire knew what Martin was attempting, but it doesn’t stop him. He notices with some surprise that the cuts from Stefan’s nails are gone from his chest and his side but tiredness makes him push the realization to the back of his mind. Finally, when Martin is done with his bath and has successfully dressed himself, he’s carried back to the bed.

“You have two more days,” Stefan says, sitting next to him as he lies against the pillows. Martin makes to scoot away but doesn’t really see the point in wasting the energy, giving it up as a lost cause within seconds.

“I’m not eating anything. You can’t drink more from me.”

“Actually I can,” Stefan says, eyes flashing as he looks to Martin. Apparently, he’s done appeasing Martin’s bad mood. “I know exactly the amount I can take before your little human heart stops. Besides that, now that we’re bonded, you’ve some interesting new capabilities. That includes enhanced blood production for me, even without the serum, even without food.”

Martin closes his eyes. Of course.

He opens his eyes to find Stefan watching him. “So are you going to make this easy or difficult?”

Martin sighs, blinking hard to assuage the stinging he feels in his eyes. He won’t cry in front of Stefan. He won’t. He raises his arm.

When Stefan bites in and the pain starts to flow through him, Martin only bites his lip, staring at the opposite wall.

Only two more days.

 

* * *

 

 

Martin wakes two days later to the sound of the bedroom door opening. He curls in on himself, not pleased with the prospect of having to see Stefan again before leaving.

After his last feeding, he left the room entirely, not coming back once; at least, not while Martin was awake. With how much blood he took, it’s been hell for Martin to even get up to use the bathroom, let alone stay awake for extended periods of time. Apparently his body is supposed to be producing blood at a faster rate, but it doesn’t feel like it.

At first it was terrifying, wondering when the vampire was going to come back and use him again now that it doesn’t even matter if Martin has eaten or not. But as time continued to pass with no sign of Stefan, Martin began to relax. Now, the idea of being fed on one last time makes his breathing pick up. He knows he can’t possibly feign sleep with the way his breath is stuttering in and out of him but the thought doesn’t stop him from trying.

“What the hell…”

The distinctly female voice makes Martin jump, and he turns slowly to find Eliza at the side of the bed, staring down at him, eyes wide.

Neither of them move as Eliza’s eyes move rapidly, taking him in. Conversely, Martin can only stare straight ahead, watching her face as a myriad of emotions flickers over it.

“You’re bonded,” she says, eyes stopping on his wrist.

Martin turns it, covering the markings as best he can. He looks away in shame, unsure of what she’ll make of it. He feels pathetic. He feels like he should have been able to do something to prevent it, either by not volunteering at all or by fighting more when Stefan was feeding. Now, though, it doesn’t matter. Now he’s sure Eliza is making assumptions, judging him based on his lack of reaction.

He’s surprised, then, when she says, “I’m getting Durai.”

Martin’s hand shoots out so fast he’s honestly surprised by it. He grips her wrist, shaking his head.

She stares at him in confusion, anger evident just below the surface. Her whole body is rigid as she stands there. Eventually, she hisses, “Why?”

“This whole thing will bring the village to its knees. We- _I_ can’t cause a fight.”

Eliza pulls her hand back and pinches the bridge of her nose. “You _were_ forcibly put into a bond, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” Martin snaps, clenching his jaw as the anger that flared immediately dissipates. He’s just so tired.

“Then I’m getting Durai. This isn’t about politics, Martin.”

“But it is! The only reason I’m here like this is due to your coven’s personal brand of politics.” He squeezes his eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears threatens to burst through but he halts it. He lets out a shaky sigh. “Besides, I’ve been here this long; I can’t give up now.”

He takes a steadying breath. “You need to help me leave, though. If you can.”

Begrudgingly, she relaxes the tiniest bit, no longer looking as if she’s about to sprint to Durai’s room. She sighs. “I will. My human can leave on their own – they know the way.”

He looks away, pursing his lips. He hadn’t even thought about Eliza’s human. “Why did you come by?” he asks. “What made you want to come into Stefan’s room?”

Eliza shrugs, seating herself on the bed. “I like to check in on everyone’s human. Some of them like the company, some of them are hungry and didn’t bring anything more than a few apples. Last time, I angered Douglas with how I was talking to you so I didn’t want to come by in case he snapped at me again.” She smiles a bit, before turning serious again.

With the mention of Douglas, Martin’s fears all come to the fore. His heartrate picks up, the organ beating viciously against his rib cage. “Stefan said it changed me…physically.”

Eliza glances at him, but doesn’t interrupt. It takes him a moment to find the words – to figure out exactly what he wants to ask.

“Will Douglas be able to tell? As long as he didn’t see my wrist or chest could he tell? Could anyone else tell?”

Eliza doesn’t meet his eyes. She watches her hands pick at the plush quilt. “Humans can’t, no. But there’s the smell. I’m sure, now, you can smell it.”

And now that she mentions it, he has been able to smell something he couldn’t recognize. It’s nothing he’s ever smelled before yet it seems familiar. The scent makes his body want to relax but he knows immediately what it must be: Stefan. His scent coating Martin, making his traitorous subconscious feel comfortable while the rest of him wants to cringe away from it.

He looks up at Eliza, able to pinpoint her scent now that he knows what he’s looking for. He can’t figure out exactly what it is but if he had to say anything he would call her scent spring-like. He thinks of rolling fields when he focuses on her – it’s a happy scent. It makes him relax, just the slightest bit.

He meets her eyes as she watches him. Tentatively, she smiles. “What do you think?” she asks. It’s obvious she’s not sure whether she should be having him focus on his newfound abilities or ignoring them.

“You smell like Ireland,” he blurts, face reddening as he realizes what he said. But it’s true; all of what he pictured culminated into the single image he always used to hold of the small country when he was little.

Now, finally, she grins, completely lighting up for a moment. “We all smell like our homelands mixed with something extra to distinguish us. I can’t believe you got that!”

He can feel his blush turn deeper as he looks away. Immediately, the happiness dies down, returning to the previous somber mood.

“You don’t want Douglas to know,” she says, unsure.

Martin nods, staring at his hands.

She sighs. “Even if you could hide it, that would be a bad idea, Martin.”

“He would just overreact.”

And suddenly, there’s her anger again. Her eyes light up and her body tenses. Perhaps Martin wouldn’t have noticed all the little nuances of her change in emotional state before but now he does and it makes him twitch, his fight or flight response activated.

She visibly calms herself, taking a few deep breaths. She says, “There is no overreacting to this.”

Martin is quiet a moment. He takes a breath, his next question coming out in a rush. “What does it mean for me, then? All these changes?”

Eliza leans back while, Martin now notices, carefully avoiding touching any part of Martin. His eyebrows furrow but he doesn’t bring it up.

“Your body changed so that you’re not as much of a liability to your bondmate,” Eliza explains. “You no longer need constant protection. You have heightened senses, a greater amount of speed, and small wounds heal much faster. Obviously you’re still human but…enhanced.

“Vampires can take as many bondmates as they like. If a mate is injured somehow or dies, it will hurt the vampire. Depending on the length of the bond and the strength, it could even end up killing them, though that’s very unusual. If a bondmate dies, the vampires may suffer a bit, but will altogether be fine after a time. The humans, though, they get the short end of the stick. If their vampire is hurt they feel the pain but are unable to handle it as well. And, if their vampire dies, generally the human does right alongside them.”

“Right,” Martin says slowly.

“Vampires and humans who share a bond share an incredible thing. Feedings feel better. Blood tastes fantastic. Emotions are shared but not to the point where you can completely read the other. You share in everything your mate has to offer. You protect and guide one another. It’s…beautiful,” she finishes, deflating when she looks back at Martin.

It’s everything he wanted with Douglas. That was the whole point. He’d heard the stories about how happy Victor and Chryslin were. He wanted to share in that. God he just wanted Douglas to come back so that maybe he could forget this nightmare. So that he could break whatever spell Stefan has over him and live happily with the vampire he truly wants.

But Eliza is shaking her head, almost as if she can read his thoughts. Hell, with how tired he is right now, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was anything less than an open book.

“Unfortunately, like I said, humans get the short end of the stick.”

“Meaning what?” Martin sighs.

“That if Stefan doesn’t revoke the bond of his own free will then it’s very difficult for you to break it. If Stefan were to break it, it would be painful for both of you – not so much physically as emotionally, and the toll of revoking it would leave Stefan confined to sickness for days, maybe even weeks. You, too, would need to stay in bed for awhile while your body reverts to its original state.”

“And that’s all very unlikely at this point.”

Eliza nods. “If another vampire were to break it for you, either by invoking their own bond or by ceasing this one altogether, your body wouldn’t know what to do. You could die, you could feel unimaginable pain, you could even be catatonic for the rest of your life. I’ve never seen it done but I’ve heard the rumors.”

She shrugs. “I think occasionally it works out, but I don’t think anyone knows why it does in those few cases.”

Martin lifts himself farther, trying to scoot over so that his legs are hanging over the side of the bed. Eliza jumps back and Martin halts.

“What?” he snaps. He doesn’t mean to but his annoyance at being the one constantly out of the loop is finally getting to him. He’d known what a bond entailed, he’d done digging while he had been thinking about it. Though apparently, he’s finding, he’d only scratched the surface. What he didn’t know was how constricting it could feel when it wasn’t mutual.

She looks cowed, wary of revealing more. Eventually, she sighs, giving in. “There are certain rules about how we vampires are supposed to act around another’s bondmate. We should never feed from them, and we should never touch them, especially if the bond is new.”

“What, can he feel it or something?” Martin says, disgust filling his voice. It’s not a question so much as a statement but Eliza answers anyway.

“He can’t but you can. You’ve probably noticed the intensity with which you feel things already. If someone besides your mate touches you right now, it could hurt. And besides all that, it’s bad form.”

“Bullshit,” Martin says, reaching forward and grabbing Eliza’s hand. He places it solidly on his knee and though the feel of it makes him hiss, he doesn’t relent.

Eliza can only stare in shock, unable, it seems, to remove her hand.

“No matter who I’m bonded with,” Martin says, “I’m not some object. You don’t need permission from anyone but me to touch me. Your rules are archaic.”

Eliza smiles at that, finally taking her hand from his knee. “That’s true.”

“Besides,” Martin sighs. “I’m not letting what Stefan did make it so that I’m an outcast, even to my friends. And I’m sure as hell not letting him keep me from Douglas.” He stops, considering. “Then again, like Natasha said, he does so love to twist the laws of your coven into what he needs them to be.”

Eliza nods. “He is quite adept at that. But I would say yours is a special case. It’ll be interesting, at the very least, to see what Durai does.”

Martin snorts at the words. “Interesting, sure.”

“Durai will do something. He can’t sit by after this. This goes against every one of the laws he’s established to help you humans keep your autonomy.”

“He would,” Martin says slowly, “if I let him.”

“Martin.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Eliza. I want his help when it comes to making this bond as insignificant as possible, but I don’t want to do anything that will force Stefan’s hand – whether that entails a fight or him fleeing, I’m not sure, but both are very unfortunate circumstances, both for me and for the village as a whole.”

Eliza purses her lips, nodding. Then, she shakes her head. “Martin, you can’t do this. We can’t expect you to hold the city together by sheer force of will.”

“You can because no one else is going to. No one else can. It’s up to me, at this point.” He looks back at her, trying to remember days before when his confidence was at his peak, when he was ready for anything. “I just need some time. I’ll wear my long sleeved shirts so no one questions it. I’ll just keep going. As long as I keep on as normal it’ll be fine. _I’ll_ be fine.”

The words come out stronger than he feels capable of, but they seem to brighten Eliza a bit. She still looks uncertain, but less fearfully lost. He thinks, for a moment, that maybe he can do this. Maybe he can continue on like nothing happened and return to normal. Maybe if he doesn’t give Stefan the satisfaction of a big drama, nothing will come of this and the vampire will give it up as a lost cause.

Maybe, he thinks, it actually will be fine.

And it is. Until Douglas returns on a stretcher a little over a week later.


End file.
